


Down Came the Rain

by captainoutoftime



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Arguing, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bisexual Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Dad Steve Rogers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Fic, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Steve, Red Room (Marvel), Slow Burn, Steve Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-24 09:22:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14352588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainoutoftime/pseuds/captainoutoftime
Summary: A mission goes badly for Natasha, who is discovered de-aged to three years old. She recognizes no one, but every kid knows Captain America. Tony grudgingly makes a call, and Steve makes good on his promise to answer. Steve and Tony have to work together to take care of an incredibly traumatized child and figure out how to turn their itsy bitsy spider back into a Black Widow. Neither of them really want to talk about what happened in Siberia, but living in close quarters, they have to come to some sort of peace - even if it means handling some feelings they'd rather not admit to having.





	1. FUBAR

It’s an odd flight back to the USA from Wakanda. 

Steve had hoped against hope that the phone he’d sent Tony wouldn’t get tossed in the trash. He had made a guess, betting on the better angels of Tony’s nature to win out over his pride. If he was honest, he hadn’t had much more of a plan than hope that Tony would need him, that he’d be able to get himself, or at least Sam un-blacklisted and maybe they could both get their citizenship back. Things could go back to - not  _ normal _ , but something like that.

If he was painfully honest, he wasn’t sure how much he actually wanted to go back to the way he’d been living. Train, plan, fight. Shower off the blood. Shower off the cold sweat that came in the middle of the night, scorch the memory of frostbite from his skin with the hot water. Sleep, or try. And start over, over, over. 

But he didn’t really know much else. Never really had, not even before. And wandering around Wakanda doing nothing but getting in T’Challa’s hair didn’t seem like a good long term plan.

He’d hoped, but he hadn’t expected the call to really come. Especially not this fast. And not about Natasha. When the phone had rung, he’d nearly tripped over a chair diving for it. 

“Tony?” Stupid question.

“Nat’s in trouble,” Tony said. 

Steve actually smiled when he heard his voice. He’d half-expected Tony to put Vision on the line or FRIDAY or something like that to keep him at a distance. It was a beat before what Tony was saying sunk in. “What?”

“I don’t really know what happened, except that she got into a tight spot, somehow, and it caught up with her. We’ve...got her...kind of. I’m working on getting the fuzz un-involved.” 

“Kind of?” Steve’s heart clenched in his chest. If this was Tony’s cute ‘n quirky way of trying to tell him that they had pieces of her... “The fuck do you mean,  _ kind of _ , is she alive? Is she- don’t tell me I’m coming to ID half a finger-”

“No,” Tony spat. Steve could practically feel him rolling his eyes over the line. “No, she’s alive. And in one piece. She’s. I don’t know. It’s a weird situation, just get over to New York. You and Sam are legal to be here for now, I got your clearances figured out. Amazing what a fantastic team of lawyers and the fabulous branding that ‘Captain America’ has been doing for a loose century can get done with a group of public servants.”

“Just like that?” He didn’t want to sound skeptical about what was easily the best news he could have dreamed up, but that didn’t make sense. They’d left...a mess, in short.

“Probationary basis. Both of your have your right to bear arms temporarily suspended until after the hearing. If you get caught trying to act as part of the Avengers, or do any sort of vigilante shit,  it’s immediate and permanent exile. If you get caught _ jaywalking _ you’re getting exiled. Don’t think this is a free pass.” 

“ _ The  _ hearing?” Like it was already arranged? Steve was trying his damndest not to get annoyed. It was so Tony to have all of this scheduled and figured out and only let him know about it once it was already in motion. But this was not only what he wanted, but what Sam, who hadn’t seen his family in nearly six months, deserved. “Okay,” he said nodding. “Okay. Thank you. Sam and I will be out ASAP.” 

“Wait,” Tony said. His voice sounded tight, like he was seconds from yelling. “Bring the cyborg.” 

Steve blinked in surprise for a few moments. “You...want me to bring Bucky?” He didn’t want his first thought, his first assumption of Tony to be that it was a trap. But that was his first thought anyway. “ _ Why _ ?”

“Fuck. Just bring him. And wear your stupid uniform.” 

The line buzzed dead in his ear.

 

Steve and Sam argued for nearly twenty minutes about whether to bring Bucky out of cryo or not. Bucky didn’t want to be brought out until the Wakandan team of doctors and scientists had purged all of the programming from his head. While they’d been saying they thought they’d gotten most of it, they knew they couldn’t be totally sure. But apparently Natasha needed him, and Steve didn’t know why, but Tony wouldn’t have asked unless it was important. Or unless he wanted to trap Bucky in the US for trial. Or to kill him, Sam pointed out. Steve didn’t really know what to say to that. The memory of Tony attempting to kill him and Bucky was still too fresh.

The cryo chamber stared at Steve the whole flight over to New York. It was surreal and horrifying like the not-quite-right twist in nightmares to see Bucky that way. The idea of being frozen again made Steve’s skin crawl and made him feel like he might throw up. He just tried not to look at it long enough to make his lungs feel asthma-ridden again. The plan was to leave Bucky in stasis and on the jet until they knew why Tony wanted him. Then, he and Sam would make a call. And if they thought it was a shitty reason, or anything about it smelled off, they’d send the jet right back to Wakanda. No harm, no foul. In theory.

Steve and Sam walked into the government base - not SHIELD, but it felt like some shadowy shit like it - both in uniform and ready - while the jet flew a waiting pattern on their word to stay or go. Steve’s body felt like a tense wire, taut at all the edges. Vision greeted them. 

“Steve, Sam.” He smiled. Steve was never sure whether to think of those smiles as genuine or as a manifestation of binary code. “It’s good to see you again.” 

Sam nodded. “You too. It’s good to be home.” 

“Where’s Nat?” Steve asked. She was one of his only actual friends on this planet, in enough danger that Tony had arranged for him to be allowed back in the country. He wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries until he knew if she was okay.

Vision’s expression tightened, his brows coming together. “Yes, of course.” He led Steve and Sam down the twisting maze of too-brightly lit hallways. “You don’t need your wings, Sam,” he added, “you can change if it’s more comfortable.” As his pace slowed, he turned towards Steve. “Where is Barnes? I thought you knew to bring him.” 

Steve let out a very controlled breath as he met Vision’s eyes. “I haven’t decided if he’s needed here yet.” 

Vision nodded once. “Perhaps once you see her,” he said quietly, pausing in front of a two-way mirror. 

It was a bio-sealed interrogation room, with several doctors and a few agents all in biohazard suits clustered around a tiny, terrified-looking redheaded child. She was naked, and covered in a collage of bruises and dried blood. A cut on her right temple dripped red down her cheek, and she was crouched on the seat of the chair with her knees hugged to her chest. She wasn’t crying, but her hands visibly shook. 

“What the fuck is this?” Sam asked.

Steve leaned closer to the glass. Even his hearing couldn’t quite pick up words from inside the room, but he could hear the general tone. They were yelling in there, at each other - not at her, it seemed. Confusion and irritation were written on the faces inside, except one. One small, frightened face held only wide blue eyes that blinked too quickly. She was hyperventilating, he could see her chest thrumming.

He went for the door. None of this made any sense, but even if it wasn’t Nat, this wasn’t right. 

“No - Steve, they’re worried about contamination - ”

Everyone inside jumped as he forced his way into the room. “Captain, please, you can’t be here,” and a thousand other echoes to that effect bombarded him, but Steve moved around people - or moved them out of his way. The girl pointed a single finger at him, recognition dawning in her eyes. He understood why Tony had wanted him to wear the suit now.

“Hi,” he said gently. “You know who I am?”

“Capa Merica,” she whispered. Her voice was surprisingly hoarse. It was unsurprisingly breathless, with the way she was panicking, it would have been stunning if she _ hadn’t  _ been out of breath. 

“That’s right,” Steve said. Although the agents in the room likely wouldn’t be able to hear, Steve could hear Tony’s voice outside - also yelling. Steve was struck again by how small she was. She couldn’t have been older than...three? Two and a half? He didn’t know enough about kids to judge. He knelt to be at her level. “My name is Steve. What’s your name?”

Her gaze was fixed on his. “ Menya zovut Natalia.”

_ Fuck.  _

He’d forgotten she spoke Russian first. 

“Hi, Natalia. It looks like you got hurt,” he said. She said nothing, just stared at him, still breathing too quickly. Steve gestured to his own head. “Does it hurt?”

“Owie,” she responded in a whisper. Nat held out a hand smeared with blood for his inspection. 

The yelling in the room had quieted down some, although the overall sounds were still anger-saturated. Steve could hear Tony more clearly - he must be closer to the door - he was trying to get all the people in biohazard suits out of the room. For once, Steve agreed with that decision.

“Owie,” Steve agreed. He smiled gently. “Do you want to get out of this room? We can get a bandage on that.” She was silent for a few moments, hand still outstretched. Her fingers trembled. “Are you hungry? Do you want food?”

Understanding flashed across her face. “Moy khochu food.” She nodded. “Hungry. Golodnyy.” 

“Guhluhdnee,” Steve repeated slowly. If she was going to speak in a scrambled-eggs mess of two languages, it’d be easier if he knew both.

“No,” she said firmly. “Golodnyy. Hungry.”

“Golodnyy.” 

Natalia nodded an affirmative. She was tiny, but it was unmistakably her.

“Sam?” Steve called, turning his head but not moving from where he was, shielding her from the others in the room. “Can you bring my bag?”

Natalia reached out towards the his helmet. Steve unclipped it and took it off. 

“You wanna hold it?” She touched it with a tentative finger, tracing the A. He dug through the duffel and pulled out a clean black tee shirt. “Here, so you’re warm,” he explained. 

Nat held her arms straight up and Steve awkwardly pulled the shirt down, trying to make sure her arms went into the right holes. It absolutely swam on her - the neckline came down past her collarbones - but it was better than nothing. 

“That’s warmer, huh?” She said nothing, pulling the hemline down over her knees. “Can I carry you?” he asked. 

She appeared to think about that for a few moments before reaching her hands up to him. Steve lifted her up and tucked her into the crook of one arm. He didn’t really know how you were supposed to hold a toddler, but she fit right in there and seemed to like it okay. God, he was so underqualified to be doing this. Where the hell was Clint, the actual parent on the team? Steve shouldered his bag and left the room behind, Nat clinging to the straps of his uniform. 

“Where’s Barnes?” Tony asked. 

“Nice to see you too. What do you want him here for?” Steve asked flatly. He didn’t know why Tony hadn’t gotten her out of the room sooner - she was cold and hungry and injured and _ three _ for Jesus’ sake. Had she been in there since Tony had called him? That was hours ago at this point, she was probably delirious with exhaustion let alone terrified and alone. “Why did you leave her in there, she’s terrified. And what  _ happened _ ?” 

“Because she screamed bloody murder anytime anyone got near her, and a few hours ago she was biting anybody who tried to touch her, you- fuck you, you self-righteous prick, you think I just stood there and washed my hands of the whole thing?” Tony shot back. “Clearly I’ve just been cracking open some cold ones, just deal with the baby-” 

“This is not helpful,” Vision interjected, his voice its usual calm, modulated tone. He held up a video for Steve to examine. It was grainy and difficult to make out, but he could see Nat - adult Natasha - fighting off at least three assailants, until one of them fired a bright blast that knocked out the camera. “This is all we have of the incident. We were fortunate that this happened on American soil. We got to her within half an hour, but everyone who had been in the truck we stopped took cyanide pills before we could question them.”

Steve’s eyes hardened. That sounded a lot like HYDRA. Every time he thought they’d crushed it for good it reared its ugly head. 

Vision continued. “Tony, show him what we found.” 

Tony pulled a page out of his jacket pocket and thrust it into Steve’s free hand. It was all in Russian, but the bottom right corner was stamped with a familiar symbol. A red hourglass in a black circle. 

“Is...this?” 

“The Red Room,” Tony answered. “Which is why we need Barnes. Nat had said he was involved at some point.” 

Sam met Steve’s eyes over Tony’s shoulder and nodded once. Steve gave him a miniscule nod of his own and Sam walked down the hall to give the jet the ok. It still could be a trap - anything could be. But it didn’t seem as likely. Natalia whimpered, so quietly Steve just barely heard it. 

“Okay, Nat, let’s get you home,” he murmured, cradling her closer. 

Tony glanced down at her, brows tugging together with worry. “I’ve got a car waiting out front. We should take her upstate, it’ll be safest.” 

Steve nodded in agreement as they walked towards the car. “You knew she’d recognize me,” he said. “Why?” 

Tony smiled. It was twisted with an odd sort of bittersweetness. “Every kid would. Even in Russia.” 

 

Sam and Bucky would fly directly to the base, where Bucky could come out of cryo and adjust on his own schedule. Steve, Tony, and Nat would meet them there. Steve was ready to dig through the limousine for snacks, but Tony demanded they pick up food from his favorite diner before leaving the city, so they ended up with a veritable feast in the backseat. Nat refused to move from the spot she’d curled up against his chest, except to grab food and stuff it into her mouth. 

“Well, we know they don’t teach table manners in the Red Room. Some finishing school that is,” Tony joked. 

Steve wasn’t in the mood. “They’ve been starving her, Tony.” He knew too well the habits of a child who went hungry more often than not. They were his habits, even still. Anywhere he lived was stockpiled with food. Produce, non perishables, water. Just in case. Sam made fun of him and called him a ‘doomsday prepper’, but it was a habit he just couldn't break. He still caught himself eating too fast, afraid someone would yank it away any second. He still felt guilt and shame for needing to eat as much as he did to keep up with his own metabolism. 

He felt only a little bit bad for the way he watched Tony’s expression darken and sink. 

Nat ate a stunning amount of food for a person her size. She ate anything Steve offered, showing no preference for one thing over another. He made her drink water, too, and the minute she was done, she promptly passed out asleep, grip still fast on his uniform. He was fairly sure both he and Tony breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Is Clint coming?” he asked. 

Tony glanced up from his phone and shook his head. “No. He’s in deep cover trying to track down Wanda.” 

Steve felt a flurry of panic in his gut. Clint was the only person remotely qualified to take care of a child, let alone a traumatized child who spoke broken English. Who was going to be able to help her? 

“What are we-” he began, the growing worry obvious in his voice. 

Tony cut him off. “We’re going to fix this, she’s not going to stay this way forever,” he said. 

He sounded so confident. Steve couldn’t help feeling a little reassured. 

“How did they even do this to her?” Steve asked. 

Grimacing, Tony shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know yet. But if they can do it, we can undo it. Viz got hold of the thing they shot her with. We’re not sure if it’s all Earth stuff yet. Kinda seems like not, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll figure it out.”

Steve looked at him for a moment, but Tony’s eyes went back down to his phone immediately. There was so much Steve wanted to say. That he was sorry for what happened. And sorry for yelling at him again today. That he was hurt and thought he meant more to Tony than that. That he really believed that knowing what happened so many years ago would only reopen old wounds. That he wanted to do better. That he didn’t have anything else worth living for but this team, the shield he’d left behind in Siberia. 

Instead, he didn’t say any of those things.  Steve wiped some of the pizza grease off Nat’s face and sat there in silence, wishing that he was the type of person who did a good job talking about this type of thing.

 

 

It was dark when they finally got back to the base. Steve did his best not to jostle the sleeping toddler in his arms as he and Tony climbed the stairs to the common area. Bucky was sitting across from Sam, and they appeared to be talking amiably. Which...was odd. But a pleasant surprise. Steve would frankly like nothing more than for his two best friends to like each other. Sam had texted Steve to tell him Bucky was awake, and agreed with their reasons for bringing him out. He was nervous, Sam had said, but understood the necessity.

The hatred in the air sparked between Bucky and Tony. Freshly-forged metal fingers tightened on the arm of the loveseat. 

“I don’t really know that much,” Bucky said, directing the words to Steve only. “I know I was there. I just...I don’t really remember much of it. Flashes. I don’t know if any of it will be useful.” 

“Anything helps,” Steve said. 

Tony nodded in grudging agreement. “We don’t even really understand if they did this to her on purpose, or if this was an accidental effect of them trying to do something else.” 

Bucky frowned as he thought. “Even if I remembered everything, I don’t think I could guess just based on that,” he said. “What other info do we have?”

Tony handed him the page, and Bucky murmured under his breath as he read it. “This is just a memo saying they’d received orders,” he said, though he appeared to be rereading it again.

Steve really wanted out of this uniform. It wasn’t comfortable to begin with, and it was starting to feel really sweaty and gross. He paused for a moment. “Sam, can you hold her so I can change?” he asked. 

Sam curled an arm gently under Steve’s to take the little girl against his chest. Steve pried her fingers off the straps of his uniform and watched as Sam sat with her in his lap. Steve held his breath for a moment, waiting for her to wake, but she only stirred slightly. 

He’d changed into sweatpants and a tee and was washing the jet lag off of his face when he heard the piercing scream. Steve skidded into the other room, nearly missing the doorway in his rush.

“Shit- Nat, it’s okay, honey,” Sam said desperately, but the blood-curdling scream continued. “Jesus, kid.” 

As Steve ran across the room to her, she half-launched herself out of Sam’s grip towards him. He hugged her against his chest, tucking her head to his shoulder. “Shh, shh, shh. I’m sorry. You’re okay, ’talia, it’s okay.” His heart was pounding, and he could feel her pulse hammering too. “It’s okay, Nat, m’here now, I didn’t leave you. Shit.” 

The horrible noise wound down to a much more tolerable type of normal crying. Steve swayed back and forth, still absolutely fucking panicked, as he tried to soothe her. Jesus Christ, they were in so fucking far over their heads. He had no idea what to do with a crying baby except maybe to hug her and hope she calmed down. Steve kept a hand on the matted red curls on the back of her head as he rocked her. Everyone was staring at him and he actually wished they weren’t there, so at least he could embarrassingly fail at caring for her by himself.

“Well,” Bucky said slowly, glancing at Sam before looking back up at Steve’s anxious expression, “I guess we know who her favorite is after all.” 

Sam laughed nervously. Tony glowered. 

Steve kept rocking until the sobs trickled down to an occasional hiccuping whine. “ _ It’s okay _ ,” he murmured, the Irish Gaelic his mother had raised him with coming out in the moment. “ _ It’s okay. You’re safe now. _ ” He knew she wouldn’t understand, but honestly, he hardly knew if she understood him in English. And these were the words his Ma had used to comfort him when he’d been scared. It had worked then. “Shh,  _ little one, I’m here with you. _ ”

“Seean beyug ,” Nat whispered.

“Ceann beag,” Steve corrected. “Little one. That’s you.” 

“Ceann beag. Little one,” she repeated. “ _ Little one. _ ” 

Steve wiped some of the tears off her face. He’d been wrong. They weren’t in over their heads. That was a gross oversimplification of this situation.

This was fucked up beyond all recognition. And so typically, it was landing in Steve’s lap. Literally. 


	2. Carrot Top

Steve slept on the couch that night, with Nat curled up on top of him. He slept like shit, panicked at every moment that one wrong movement would wake her up. But nothing did. Nat slept the still, dreamless sleep of truly exhausted children. Sam left to sleep in his room. Bucky didn’t sleep much, anymore, and spent most of the night hovering silently around the edges of the living room. Tony popped in and out to check in but never stayed. 

When Nat finally did start to stir, it was nearly nine in the morning. 

“Good morning,” Steve said. 

Nat scowled and rubbed at her eye with one hand, the other maintaining its vice-like grip on Steve’s shirt. She was still filthy: covered in dirt and dried blood, and now, bits of food from last night. None of her injuries had been more pressing than her need for food and sleep at the time. Now, though, she needed a bath. And probably triage.

He stood slowly, to a protesting whine from the toddler. “You’ve gotta get clean,” he said. He didn’t know how much English she understood, but she’d always been a fast learner. “You ready for a bubble bath?” Nat blinked at him, her face still scrunched up grouchily. It was probably bad to give a three year old coffee, but damn if she didn’t look like she wanted some. Maybe he could just give her a little with some milk? “You’re gonna love it, Nat. It’s all nice and warm, and you can play with the bubbles.”

Steve brought her into his suite and set her down in the bathroom. 

“No, no, no!” Her eyes were big with panic as she reached to cling onto his pants, his shirt, like she was trying to climb up him. “No, no, no!” 

He could not believe he’d had the thought of giving her coffee not two minutes ago. Steve crouched down to be at her level, but didn’t pick her up. “Nat, I’m running the bath. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“ Kurtka, niet, kurtka, moy owie!” Nat said, her voice growing shriller. 

He got none of that. Except ‘niet’ and ‘owie’ but her ‘no’ was pretty clear already. Steve started filling the tub, kneeling beside it to keep his hand in the water and make sure it wasn’t too hot. Nat held onto his sleeve, still occasionally mumbling, but less panicked as he held still. Interest started to take over her expression as she studied the tub. Steve wished he had real bubble bath, but liquid body wash would probably do. It’d get her clean, which was really what was important here.

Natalia’s eyes grew bigger as he started pouring in the soap, bubbles instantly piling up in the tub. Steve grinned. “Oooh,” he said encouragingly, swishing his hand in the water. “Look how nice. C’mon, Nat. You want to touch it?”

“Toos it,” she repeated. She closed her hand on a fistful of bubbles, and took a step back before opening her palm. Nat’s head flicked over to Steve, her expression comically surprised at her empty hand. 

He actually laughed. That was fucking cute. “Where’d they go? You better get some more.” 

For the first time, he saw a small smile on her face. It reminded him so much of her adult self in some ways. Steve let her play with the bubbles for a few more minutes before he pulled his shirt off over her head. Nat didn’t seem to particularly care, so he lifted her up and slowly lowered her into the tub. The water wasn’t very deep, and was warm, although not hot. She sat still for a few moments, considering whether she liked this or not.

“Bubble bath,” Steve said. “Can you say ‘bubble bath’?”

Nat splashed one hand into the water. “Bubby.” 

“Bubby works,” he allowed. Steve tossed in a few plastic cups for her to play with, along with a Captain America rubber duckie that the adult version of Natasha had given him as a gag. She didn’t object to him cleaning the dirt off her with a washcloth, except when he had to hold an arm or a leg still as she was trying to splash. He went carefully over the various cuts and bruises he found- and there were a lot of them. The one on her head he only poured water over. He didn’t want to touch it and make anything worse. Steve ran into another roadblock when he realized had no idea how he was supposed to wash girl parts. Plus. It felt creepy. He knew she was a baby, but she was also _ Natasha _ . He decided that sitting in the soapy water was probably fine, although he did have to drain and refill the tub three times before it stopped turning gray from dirt and dried blood.

“Moy volosy!” Natalia protested, swatting at his hands as he tried to shampoo her hair. 

“Your hair needs a wash, carrot top, you’re gross,” he said, wrinkling his nose up. 

“Moy hair! Niet!” she screeched, whacking at his arm with the duckie. “Niet!”

“Da hair,” Steve insisted, “da.” Having exhausted the entirety of his Russian vocabulary, he worked on rinsing the soap out of her hair. 

“Moy volosy!”

“Moy volosy needs cleaning,” he said, assuming they were on the same page and both talking about her hair. 

“Vash,” Bucky said from the doorway. “Moy means ‘my’. Vash is ‘your’.” 

Nat’s eyes grew wide as saucers. One finger pointed at Bucky as she sucked in a breath. Bucky ducked out of the doorway and shut the door but it was too late. Natalia screamed like she was being stabbed, her hands clamped over her ears. Fuck, the kid had a set of pipes, that was for sure. Steve felt like his eardrums might be actually damaged by the time he calmed her down. He was humming a song to her to keep her pacified as he dried her off when he heard Tony’s voice from outside the door. 

“Did you pinch her or what?”

“No, she- I don’t know, Bucky spooked her a little. She’s okay.” Steve wrung her hair out in pieces with the towel. He was drenched from splashing, from snuggling her out of the tub when she’d panicked, and now, from attempting to dry her. 

The door cracked open. “I got one of the best pediatricians out there to come by,” Tony said. “She has expertise in fucked up toddlers, apparently. She’ll be here in ten or so minutes. And I got clothes for the little banshee. In your room.”

Steve wanted to demand to know why  _ his _ room, why was this his responsibility? She was everyone's teammate, everyone’s friend. Just because she’d recognized Captain America shouldn’t mean that she was just going to be left with Steve, the least qualified person in the fucking world, but Tony was already gone. 

Nat did not like dresses. Steve had no idea why Tony - or FRIDAY, more likely- had bought her all these dumbass frilly pink shits, but they were not comfortable, and she was not having it. Steve ended up being able to coax her into a pair of purple leggings and a little white shirt. Which, at least didn’t clash with her hair. For a guy who constantly mocked Steve’s taste in clothing, Tony had done a shitty job picking out colors for a girl with red hair. 

He carried her on his hip downstairs, only pausing to raid the kitchen for food. He needed to eat around three times what a normal person did just for maintenance. Dinner had been great, but he needed another meal. And Nat couldn’t really stand to be missing meals either. She ate quickly, which was convenient, although he did start to wonder if he should worry about her choking on things as he took her downstairs.

The doctor had a small bag, but no other visible medical equipment. She wore normal clothes, no white jacket. Steve wondered if Tony had asked her to do that. If not, it was still a damn good idea for not scaring Nat. Especially after yesterday. She smiled at them as Steve crossed the room.

“Hi. I’m Doctor Bujwah. Please call me Aliya,” she said. She had a soft but steady voice, and gentle eyes. Nat curled against Steve’s chest, but he extended a hand to shake. 

“Steve Rogers. Sorry I’m wet- I just gave her a bath and it was- yeah. This is Natalia.” 

“Bathtime is definitely not a neat endeavor.” Aliya tilted her head to meet Nat’s eyes, although the child hid her face against Steve’s shirt immediately. “Are you being shy, Natalia? Or are you always a little shy?” she looked up to Steve to answer, but he grimaced in response.

“I don’t know what Tony told you, but I just met her - not even twenty-four hours ago-” he hastened to explain, wondering exactly what he could tell her.

“Oh, no, he explained the whole situation,” Aliya promised, sitting on one of the couches and patting the seat beside her. “I’ve signed so many NDAs today I’ve got a cramp in my hand from it. The gist is that you think she was part of an assassin-training program, is that right?”

Steve nodded, relieved he wouldn’t have to dance around telling her the truth. He sat next to her on the couch, Nat still barnacled to his side. “Yeah. She’s covered in these bruises and she screams anytime one of my friends is in the room. Or if I put her down. And I don’t know anything about kids, anything, I just- she recognized Captain America so I was the only person she let touch her so we could get her here, and-” Steve cut himself off, embarrassed with the amount of information he’d dumped on the poor doctor.

“And you’re overwhelmed by the responsibility?” Aliya asked. She placed a few LifeSaver candies on the table in front of them. 

Steve nodded. “I just...I don't know anything about toddlers. Let alone traumatized toddlers.” Nat was slowly turning towards Aliya, examining her with more interest than fear now.

Aliya’s expression grew more solemn, saddened. “Well, I’ll help all I can. Does she speak?”

“Not really well, but she speaks a bit of English and a bit of Russian. So I’m trying to learn that with her.”

The doctor nodded, making a note on a small notebook she held. “It’s good that you’re trying to learn. Bilingual children always pick up language a little slower. That’s normal.” 

Nat reached for the candies, but they were just out of her grasp as long as she stayed on Steve’s lap. _Clever. Very_ _clever_. He glanced down at her, but Aliya caught his attention.

“Let her feel like she’s not being watched,” she said quietly. Returning to a normal volume, she continued. “How long will she be staying here?” she asked. 

Steve didn’t really know how to answer that. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Could be a few more hours. Might be months.” The thought nearly made him shudder. He’d barely survived not-quite a full day with the kid, he had no idea if either of them would make it a week, let alone months, plural. 

“Let’s plan for the long-term, then, just in case. She has no other family?” 

“No. Just us.”

“And she only seems to trust you,” Aliya noted. 

Steve glanced away, across the room. “Just me then,” he said quietly. Nat scooted off his lap, one fist holding onto his sweatpants- still wet from the bath fiasco- as she grabbed a LifeSaver. The package crinkled in her chubby fingers, and after a frustrated moment, she held it up to him.

“Pomogite,” she said imperiously. 

“Candy?” he asked.

“Ohp. Ohp. Hewp. Pomogite,” she repeated. “Help.” 

Aliya leaned in. “I can help you, Natalia.” She waited with her hand outstretched for the toddler to give her the candy, which after a hesitant moment, she did. Aliya unwrapped it and gave it to her, and Nat popped it immediately into her mouth. “Yum. Do you like it?” Nat nodded shyly, and Aliya smiled. Her eyes sparkled when she did, and Steve thought that this was a person who had found their calling. “I was just talking to your friend Steve about you. I’m a doctor, so I help when people get hurt. He says you got hurt recently. Did you?”

Nat glanced back at Steve, then touched her right temple. It was scabbed over, but still looked ugly. “Owie,” she confirmed. 

“That is an owie,” Aliya agreed. “Natalia, Steve asked me to come here to make sure that none of your owies need any more treatment, like band-aids, or ice. Or maybe more candy,” she added with a smile. The toddler pressed her back against Steve’s legs but didn’t do or say anything else. “Is it okay if I give you a look to make sure you don’t have any more owies?”

Nat turned and pulled herself back into Steve’s lap. He just barely managed to divert an elbow to the crotch as she climbed him. Breathing a shallow sigh of relief, he turned her so she was sitting facing the doctor. “How bout if I help?” he suggested. Nat didn’t help, but she didn’t resist as Steve undressed her. 

Aliya scooted in to look her over. “Tony mentioned the possibility that she’ll react badly to medical equipment,” she said as she felt for Nat’s pulse in her wrist. “Do you think she will?” 

Steve frowned as he thought. “Honestly? Yeah. I do.” 

The diagnosis wasn’t as bad as Steve had thought. The head wound looked worse than it was. It was shallow, and there was no bruising around it. Nat showed no signs of concussion. The bruising on her body, Aliya said, was patterned. Most of it was hitting the same places, from the same angles. It was likely she was being beaten as training, for any act of disobedience. Or just for conditioning. Steve felt sick to his stomach. His ears buzzed for a few moments after she finished speaking. He hugged the girl a little closer. 

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Jesus Christ. I thought this shit wasn’t supposed to happen anymore.” 

“It still does. Even outside of assassin training,” Aliya sighed. “Her vitals seem normal enough that I won’t take her blood pressure or anything else this time. Overall, she’s physically alright, but you’re going to have a very tough road ahead. Be as patient as you can be. Try to keep her away from yelling or shouting- even if it’s not at her, just-”

“Yeah, being around it,” Steve said. He still felt like his ears were ringing from the thought of what kind of sick fuck could wake up every day to beat a roomful of toddlers. Steve’s father had beaten the living shit out of his wife and son anytime he got the chance to, but even that hadn’t been  _ intentional  _ like this. It had just been stupid, drunken rage. This was...systemic. Planned. They were training her like a fighting dog. It made him feel like he might throw up. He blinked and refocused. Aliya was still talking. 

“She may be sensitive to certain noises, or situations. PTSD is not always reliant on triggers, but having triggers is very common. See what you can do to accommodate them. And...she’s formed an unhealthy attachment to you.” Steve bristled defensively, but the doctor held a hand up and continued. “It’s not your fault. You were the first person she decided she could trust, and she’s clinging. Try to get her comfortable around other people. It’ll be good for you both. And,” she added, touching his hand just once as she stood. “You don’t have to do this alone. Have everyone else pull their weight. Just because she’s comfortable with you doesn’t mean that caring for her falls only on you. You’re a team, after all.” 

Well fuck if that didn’t feel good to hear. He didn’t know if anyone else  _ would _ help, but he felt a little more entitled to ask. “Thank you so much,” Steve said. He stood, shifting Nat to his hip to walk her out. “I really appreciate you coming out here.”

“Of course,” Aliya said. “Natalia, it was nice to meet you. I’ll see you again in a month,” she added, giving Steve one final smile before getting into the car. 

 

When Steve couldn’t find Sam in the common areas, he called him. “What do you mean you’re home?” Steve asked incredulously. 

He could practically hear Sam rolling his eyes over the phone. “Dude. I haven’t seen my family in six months because...hm - oh yeah, we got  _ exiled  _ because we’re _ fugitives _ .” 

Steve couldn’t really argue with that. “But I need help. I don’t know shit about kids, Sam, I need backup.” 

“Why do you think I know shit about kids?” he asked. “I’m an uncle, we play, and we hand them back if things get rocky. And she freaked out when I had her last night. She does not like me.”

“She was just surprised,” Steve begged. “I’m sure she likes you. She did the same thing to Bucky today. Sam, please. Bring your whole family back here. C’mon.” 

“ _ Hell  _ no. If you think the kiddo can handle it, you can bring her down here for a few days, my mom will love her scary little face to bits,” Sam said. He sighed. “Listen, I’m not abandoning you, but I literally haven’t seen my nieces in half a year. Or my sisters. Or my mom and dad. I’m gonna spend the week, min, and maybe longer. Then I’ll come back to base and help with the kid.” 

Steve was quiet for a moment. “No, you- you should be with your family,” Steve said, feeling guilt pool in his gut. “Y’know what, I’m just gonna make Tony man up and help me. Or maybe Vision can download some compassion or something. You’re good, I really shouldn’t have even asked.”

“Hey, I’m not ditching you,” Sam promised. “I’m just taking a week. And then I will come back to help.” 

“Stay longer,” Steve said. “Enjoy it, Sam. You really deserve to.” He meant every word. But that also meant he was alone in this. Effectively alone anyway. Nat was terrified of Bucky, and Tony had very, very recently tried to kill him. He wasn’t itching to  _ parent _ with the guy. 

 

The strangest thing about Nat was really her silence. He wasn’t an expert on kids, but weren’t three-year-olds supposed to be jumping all around playing with things? Nat just sat, or stood, always with a fistful of whatever piece of his clothing was available, silent and glancing nervously around the room. Or worse - silent and staring blankly at the wall. It freaked him out. 

And she really made cooking difficult. 

“Nat, honey, you can’t- no, I can’t carry you the whole time, I need both hands,” he insisted, steeling himself not to give into the huge blue eyes pleading with him. And the little grabby hands up. It was almost funny that Natasha had been capable of the same bending of will, just with different methods. Almost funny except that it was heartbreakingly sad that she’d learned them like this. Steve pulled a chair up to the counter for Nat to stand on. “Hop up here. You can help. Pomogite, help.” 

She climbed up onto the chair, and Steve put a wooden spoon in her hand. He had a big bowl full of bread crumbs for breading the chicken he was going to fry up. The cheese and parsley did need to get mixed in to the crumbs, and it was a very safe three-year-old job. Nat poked the spoon into the mix, and Steve helped her start, showing her the circular motion. 

“There we go. Mix it up. Mix, mix. Good job, Nat, there you go.” 

“I gotovit,” she informed him. “I do cook.” 

“You are cooking,” Steve corrected, dipping a piece of chicken into the whisked egg before coating it in breadcrumbs. He tossed it on the pan and let it sizzle. “Mmm. So yummy.”

“Owie.” Nat pointed at the stovetop solemnly. 

Steve felt his stomach twist. Had they burned her? Or did she just know that heat could burn? He hated that this was even a question he even had to ask. “Yeah, it’s hot. It can give you an owie, that’s why I’m gonna do it.” 

“Hot,” she repeated. 

“Hot,” Steve confirmed. He tucked a loose red curl back behind her ear. “You need some rubber bands for this mess, carrot top. My ma would have called you a ragamuffin.”

“No my carrot,” Nat said. 

“Carrot top. It means redhead. ‘Cause of your hair, Nat. It’s red.”

Nat smiled up at him. “No, you carrot!” she said.

He had no idea why, but this was making her happy, and it was so relieving to see a smile on her face. “No,  _ you’re _ the carrot top. I’m a blond. We’re supposed to have more fun, but I think that’s a racket if we’re judging on my sorry ass life.” 

She started giggling. Really _ giggling _ . “You carrot!”

“Nuh-uh, you’re a little carot top,” he teased, poking her in the tummy. The sound of her laughing made Steve feel like he was floating out of his body. Thank god. Thank fucking god. He felt a little like maybe he wasn’t actively making things worse, for once. “You’re a little baby carrot,” he insisted to her giggles. “My lil’ carrot top.” 

“Hey, Mommy, how did the doctor’s appointment go?” Tony asked. 

And like that it was over, Nat fell immediately silent, and Steve felt the smile slide off his face. He was...embarrassed. To have been caught making the kid happy? Or because he was enjoying this deeply domestic thing? Either way he was angry at the other man for being here. For constantly mocking everyone around him and poking at anything that looked fragile just to see if he could break it. 

“Fine,” Steve said. He flipped a piece of chicken in the pan.

“Fine, and?” Tony asked expectantly. He sat at the bar. Steve wanted to yell at him to clear out but it was kind of Tony’s base, and therefore Tony’s kitchen.

“Physically fine. Mentally concerning. We kinda had that figured out, though,” Steve said. Nat reached up for him and this time he conceded, holding her on his hip. “She- um. Abandonment issues and PTSD and other stuff Aliya didn’t put labels on. She’s forming unhealthy attachments, so it’s better for her if other people could be involved,” he said. “Meaning this shouldn’t all fall on me.”

“I can hire a nanny to help you out,” Tony said. “I just didn’t know if you’d rather do it yourself.” 

“Why would you think that? And why isn’t this your problem to help with? We’re not shipping her off to a stranger. It’s Nat, she’s our friend,” he insisted. Nat lifted her head as he said her name, and Steve grimaced. “Sorry,  _ little one, _ ” he added, the Irish nickname slipping out. “You’re a very good cook.”

“I cook,” she said quietly. Nat peered over Steve’s shoulder at Tony. 

“I see you cooking, it’s very good,” Tony smiled. It was almost sweet. And then - gone, the moment he looked back up to Steve and continued calmly, “I am helping, I’m trying to get our Tasha back. Did you just speak in Russian?” Tony asked, lifting a brow. “By the way, you can ask FRIDAY to help you translate for her if she’s saying something you can’t understand.” 

Steve shifted uncomfortably. “No,” he said. “Irish Gaelic.” 

Tony’s whole expression shifted to interest. “I didn’t know you spoke Gaelic. You’ve never done that before.” 

He shrugged one shoulder. “Both my parents were immigrants. I grew up with it.” Steve felt defensive, like Tony was trying to pry into something private. “I don’t use it a lot anymore.” 

“I grew up with Italian and English,” Tony offered. “My mom was an immigrant here too. And she converted to Catholicism when she married my dad, but I picked up just enough Yiddish to curse in it. Seriously, I think I would have remembered if that had been in any of your files, it’s definitely not there.” 

Part of him wanted to ask more about that- Tony had never mentioned his mom before in front of him, but the defensive part of him that wanted to protect what few bits of privacy he had left won out. “You never asked. You’ve never asked me anything about myself.” 

Tony let out a sigh that made Steve want to kick his chair, but the snarky comment Steve was waiting for never came. 

“Are Steve and Sam citizens again?” 

Steve was startled for a moment by Bucky’s voice. Fuck. He had freakishly good hearing and Bucky still snuck up on him like it was nothing. Maybe Nat had damaged his ears after all. He turned to Tony for his answer, rather curious himself. Nat curled closer to him, glowering at Bucky. 

“You’re not,” Tony said flatly. 

“Sounds about right,” Bucky nodded. “How about Steve and Sam?”

“There’s a hearing scheduled for a month from now,” Tony said, looking pointedly away from him. “That will determine if they get their citizenships back. Probably will. The optics of Captain America being an illegal alien aren’t great. You don’t get shit.”

Bucky gave Steve a conspiratorial smile.  _ Can you believe this guy? _ Steve wanted to laugh. “Didn’t ask about me. But thank you. I know they’ve both missed home.”

Tony looked as uncomfortable as Steve had just felt. “Leave me leftovers or I’ll make you start paying rent,” he said, stalking out. The joke didn’t quite land the way that his exit-humor jokes usually did. 

Nat refused to say a word the remainder of the night, but Steve marked that down to her being tired. Thankfully she wasn’t the kind of kid who fought bedtime. She wouldn’t stay still unless he was laying next to her, but at least this time they were in his bed, and she didn’t insist on laying on top of him, digging her sharp little elbows into his sternum the whole time. Steve didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, but the past few days of no rest had caught up to him in a big way, and before he knew it he was out. 


	3. Ready to Comply

Steve woke to a scream, and was upright before he could even register where it was coming from. “Lights,” he said breathelssly. FRIDAY pulled the lights up in the room. Nat was curled into a ball in the middle of the bed, rocking and sobbing hysterically. She pulled at her hair, little fists tugging at the red strands. There were no words in the screams, just animal noises of terror. His heart was pounding out of his chest. He had no idea what went wrong, but all he could think to do was scoop her up and hold her. Steve got out of bed and walked back and forth across his dimly lit bedroom, the little girl curled against his chest. “S’okay, carrot top. You’re okay, Nat. You’re okay.” 

Her heart beat like a hummingbird’s. Steve shifted her so she could hide her face in his shoulder, one hand rubbing circles on her back. She got a tight grip in his shirt again, sobbing against him. 

“Shh, babygirl. Shh. Shh, you’re okay. You’re safe. M’right here, and I’m gonna protect you. You’re safe. Just breathe, ‘talia, it’s okay.  _ You’re safe, little one. I am here. _ ” 

“ _ Little one _ ,” Nat echoed, still sniffling. It was really amazing how quickly she learned, how fast her pronunciation improved, even for a language she’d never heard until two days previously.

“You’re my  _ little one _ ,” Steve confirmed. “You’re my little carrot top, right?” 

Nat was quiet for a while before replying. “My carrot.” 

“Yeah,” he murmured. “You are.” He paced for a few minutes longer until her heartbeat slowed back down to a normal rate. Steve sat back down on the bed, sitting Nat on his lap so he could look at her. “You have a bad dream?” he asked. 

Her eyes were solemn, haunted things. They didn’t belong in a baby’s face. No child this young should be carrying the baggage she already had strapped to her back. “ Zimniy soldat,” she whispered.

“Monster?” he guessed. “Y’know what, Nat? You don’t have to be afraid of the boogeyman,” he murmured. “He checks under his bed at night for  _ me _.” Steve smiled a little, carding his fingers through her hair to undo the tangles. “You’re good and safe in here.” 

Nat pointed at the door. “Soldat?” 

“Nope,” Steve promised. “No monster. We’re safe.” Steve hummed and sang every song he could remember until Natasha fell back asleep. Unfortunately on him again. But he doubted he’d be able to sleep after this anyway. It was four am, but Steve had a habit of waking up around now regardless. He waited until Natalia was deeply asleep before speaking again. “FRIDAY? Can you please translate what she said?”

“Winter soldier. Soldier,” FRIDAY chimed quietly.

Steve’s stomach sank.

 

He wished he could stop thinking about it but he couldn’t. Nat freaked out any time Bucky was too close to her in a room, without fail. She was getting more used to Tony, and tolerated Vision on the infrequent occasions he floated ghostlike through a room, but Bucky scared the daylights out of her. Every time. Around midday, the awful worry of whether Bucky had been the person putting the bruises on her popped into his head, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t shake it. 

And it wasn’t like he could talk to Bucky about it. Bucky was neck-deep in research, trying to figure out anything he could about the Red Room. He still said he couldn’t remember much other than images, flashes. Nothing cohesive. And he seemed kind of okay but Steve was overaware of how fragile his mental state really was.

Steve didn’t relish the idea of waltzing in there and suggesting he’d spent a considerable time beating children.

He ended up bringing Nat down to Tony’s workshop. “FRIDAY?” he asked. “Can you ask Tony if we can come in?” Steve hadn’t bothered to check if the door was locked or not - he assumed it would be. He waited for a few minutes before the pad next to the door lit up, and the lock clicked. He took that as a yes. 

“What.” Tony barked. 

Steve wound his way through the place towards Tony’s desk. He’d never been inside before. It was a really cool space. Had a lot more muscle cars than he’d been expecting to see. Posters of rock bands dotted the walls, and music floated through the room. He sat Nat down on the desk “What,” Tony repeated, staring at him.

Steve let out a slow breath. “Nat had a nightmare last night.” 

Tony handed her an Iron Man paperweight to play with. She scooted towards the middle of the desk to slide the weight up and down a binder that served as a ramp. “Checks out,” he said, studying her.

“She was scared of something specific.” Every protective instinct Steve had screamed at him not to tell Tony. “She said ‘Winter Soldier’.” 

Tony’s eyes dragged slowly up from Natalia to meet Steve’s gaze. “We knew he was there,” he pointed out.

“I know,” Steve said. He stared at the ground for a moment, fingers fidgeting a little. “I just figured I should tell you.” 

“Oh, really? We’re gonna be all open now? Well that’s fucking great, Rogers,” Tony snapped. “Too little, too late.” He turned around to the multiple screens he had up. They appeared to be diagrams of the weapon the agents had used on Nat in the first place.

Steve didn’t reply. He hadn’t told Tony what he’d found out about Bucky for a myriad of reasons. About fifty percent of them involved protecting Bucky. The other half of them...he’d honestly believed that telling Tony that instead of his mom and dad dying in an accident, they’d been brutally murdered would have only ripped open a long-healed wound. If Tony had found out that Steve’s mom had actually been poisoned  instead of dying from tuberculosis, Steve wouldn’t want to know. He’d assumed Tony would have felt the same. 

Although. If he had found out that she’d been poisoned and Tony  _ had _ known...he might have been angry. Especially if it was Rhodey who poisoned her. He understood why Tony was angry. He did. Tony was well within his rights to be angry.

But Steve had never wanted to hurt him. He’d really believed that he could spare Tony from that extra pain by keeping it from him. How was he to know that Tony would find out? Especially the way he did, seeing that horror on film, god. If he’d have known that the video was out there, he would have told him the minute he’d seen the footage. If he’d found Bucky before the UN bombing, he would have told Tony then. If, if, if. But he hadn’t.

And it hurt that Tony thought so little of him. He really believed Steve hadn’t once considered his feelings. 

“I don’t often keep secrets,” Steve began slowly.

“Mmhm, you just picked a real doozy to start with. Poor you, you got caught red handed and you’re  _ sad _ now.” Tony spun around, jabbing a finger into Steve’s chest. “Poor little you. Don’t you believe for one second you’re here because I forgive you. Not one second, Rogers. You’re here because I care about Natasha. The minute she is okay, you can go  _ rot _ .” 

Steve nodded. His face held only grief and resignation.They were familiar feelings. And...to a degree, he knew he deserved them. Steve sat down on the edge of the desk while Tony glared at him. He felt Nat scoot up against his back, her little hands against his shoulders, zooming the paperweight up and down his spine. He waited until the other man had picked up a tablet again before speaking. “I wouldn’t have wanted to know,” he said quietly. He heard Tony suck in a breath, but he continued anyway. “If it had been the other way around. I did want to protect Bucky,” he admitted, “but I really thought it would only hurt you to find out. I was wrong. You’re different than I am. I guessed wrong, and I wish I hadn’t every day. I never wanted to hurt you.” Steve swallowed his pride. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m really sorry.” 

He watched Tony’s knuckles turn white. 

“It’s good for her to be around other people,” Steve said. He got up and walked away, heading back upstairs. 

“No! No!” Nat shrieked.

He could hear Nat protesting, but he kept moving. Tony was awkwardly trying to stop her from diving off the desk, though still staring at Steve like he was trying to figure out what to say.

“No! No! Steeb!” Nat shrieked. Her little nails scraped against Tony’s arms. 

Steve walked hesitantly back towards the desk, stopping about halfway across the room and sitting on a stool by one of the muscle cars. 

“Sit there. Let her get used to not being  _ on  _ you,” Tony barked. “And don’t talk to me.” 

Nat stopped screaming when she saw him sit. She kept trying to get off the desk and over to him. Steve picked up his phone and pretended to scroll through it. He could feel two sets of eyes on him. 

“Nat, you’ve gotta stop that,” Tony said, still juggling her. “No, no, okay, come here.  _ Come here _ . Here, look, ooh, shiny tablet. FRIDAY, get some kid games on this for her and pull them up.” Nat banged it on the table and Tony shook his head. “Worth nothing to me, Nat. Not a thing. Smash it up, see if I care. Smashing can help with abandonment issues. Ask Hulk about it sometime.” 

“Ne vy,” Nat said. “Ne vy, ne vy, ne vy!” She banged the tablet on the desk for emphasis. 

“FRIDAY?” 

“Not you. Not you, not you, not you,” FRIDAY translated. 

Tony sighed, folding his arms over his chest. “Well that’s sweet. Don’t they teach you in assassin school to not bite the hand that turns you back into a grown-up?” 

Nat pouted until a display of fireworks erupted on the tablet. Distracted and entranced by the glow, she prodded at the screen, more shapes and colors exploding everywhere she touched. Tony went back to work. Steve tried to blend into the wall. For a while, anyway. FRIDAY changed up the display on the screen frequently - games, interactive videos, music - enough to keep Nat pacified, though she looked up to make sure Steve hadn’t moved enough that he knew he couldn’t try to slip out. 

Bored, he popped up the hood of the car. The engine was a thing of beauty, nothing like the comparatively primitive Army cars he’d learned how to fix. And hotwire. Although...looking at the car, it did seem like it had been a while since it had been driven. As long as he was just sitting on his ass, he might as well tune it up a little. He took off the button up he’d been wearing and tossed it onto a shelf. He didn’t care what happened to his undershirt while he worked. Steve looked through rolling racks of tools and worked, tightening up a few things here and there. It didn’t really need much fixing, but it kept him occupied.

While he was underneath the car on his back, he could hear feet get closer and stop right beside him. 

“What are you doing to my car?” Tony asked. 

Steve paused. “Tuning the engine.” 

Tony’s feet didn’t move. “This car costs more than your whole life is worth.” 

“You’ve made what my life is worth to you pretty clear,” Steve replied lightly. He turned the wrench again, tightening the bolt he’d been adjusting. He could feel hositility radiating off Tony in waves. He adjusted one more bolt and slid out from under the car. Steve wiped the grease off his hands with a rag. Tony leaned into the car through the open window, not breaking eye contact for a moment, and started it. The engine purred to life like a happy housecat. Steve smiled, just a little. 

Tony nodded, arms crossed over his chest. He turned the key and the engine shut back off. He looked like he was about to say something, but his eyes went wide. “Shit, no-” 

There was a thud, and Steve spun in time to see Nat hit the floor, falling off the desk. He scooped her up just as she started to wail. “Shh, baby. I know it hurts. Did you hit your head?” Steve felt for a bump, hoping to god she hadn’t just fucking cracked her skull open. “You’re okay, babygirl, you’re okay.” 

Tony raced over, whipping open the fridge and pulling an ice pack out of the freezer. “Shit, shit. I’m sorry, I fucked up. I should have been watching her, I’m sorry.” 

Nat held one hand on her head. Steve moved her hand aside. “Here, Tony. Is she bleeding or-?” 

“No, she’s not. Doesn’t feel like there’s a bump yet, but that usually takes at least a few minutes,” Tony replied tightly, holding the ice against her head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Steve muttered. It was absolutely Tony’s fault, one hundred percent, and Steve resented him for it even knowing it was a total accident.

“Yes it is,” Tony snipped. “I shouldn’t have left her there by herself.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “You shouldn’t have.”  _ And fuck you. _ Steve rubbed Nat’s back. She was calming down quickly enough that Steve wondered if she’d been more scared than hurt. He let out a breath. This wasn’t helping. Them being at each others throats like this was just...not helping. “Neither of us are used to having kids around. Can’t blame you for not thinking about it.” 

“You wanna give me a whack?” Tony asked Nat. “Go ahead. Uncle Tony fucked up. Give me a good smack.” 

Steve really, really wanted to tell him to stop cursing in front of her, but a mental playthrough of every swear word he’d used around her in just the last four hours stopped the words on his tongue. Nat laid her head against Steve’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, violence isn’t a good way to deal with your feelings anyway,” Steve said. “You won’t learn that from me, so take the lesson here and now.” 

Tony snorted. It wasn’t quite a laugh but it was  _ almost  _ one.

Well. Steve would take what he could. He’d fucked up bad, and if he was honest- he didn’t ever expect Tony to forgive him. Nat sniffled a few times, then turned and pointed at the paperweight she’d been playing with. “My,” she said.

“Mine,” Steve corrected, though he was unsure if she was using incorrect English or proper Russian.

Tony handed it to her. “Sorry, pipsqueak.” 

Nat slid the paperweight up Steve’s neck and on his face. He turned his head, but she was evidently determined to rub it all over his face. “She’s fine,” he said. 

“Una Tony,” Nat announced. She whacked the weight into Steve’s sternum. 

“Ow, Nat, stop it.” 

Tony smiled. “Aw. I’m Uncle Tony, officially. She’s accepted me.” He took the ice off her head, peeking to see if there was a lump. “Aand we’re good. I’m off DYFS’s list.” 

“What’s dyefus?” Steve asked. 

“Division of Youth and Family Services. They take kids away from abusive parents and stuff. Run the foster care system and all that. I was just kidding.”

“Oh.” Steve paused for a beat. “We didn’t have that when I was growing up.” He wondered if they would have taken him away if they’d found out what had happened in his house. 

Tony tossed the icepack back into the freezer. “They might have, not that you’d known, Captain American Pie.” 

Steve couldn’t help the momentary flash of anger and hurt across his face. He tucked all of that back away behind a placid expression he’d spent a lifetime cultivating. He didn’t need Tony to have more ways to hurt him next time they had an argument. He saw Tony’s brows come together, but he didn’t give him the chance to say anything else. “I’m gonna see if she’ll nap,” Steve said, shifting Nat onto his hip. “She did pretty well with you around, before the falling incident. I guess that’s progress, huh?” He headed for the door, waving goodbye without turning around. 

 

Nat only napped if he spent twenty minutes rocking her to sleep, but she did end up sleeping for a solid hour after that. Which was kind of wonderful, because Steve hadn’t had a second to himself since he’d first picked the kid up. 

He and Bucky started making dinner together over the next few days. It was odd to fall back into that kind of rhythm so easily, but despite the gaping holes in Bucky’s memory, it was almost like nothing had happened. Bucky cut, Steve cooked. They reached around each other and moved back and forth seamlessly around the kitchen like they had in their shitty apartment. Steve didn’t say that, although he wanted to. Bucky always fell silent and broody when he brought up the past. 

“Are we going to have dinner company?” Bucky asked. “Or am I allowed to exist during this meal?” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “You exist either way, so it doesn’t matter. And you’re helping cook, and he’s not.” 

“I murdered his parents. I don’t really blame the guy for hating me,” Bucky pointed out. 

“Yeah, well.” Steve didn’t really know what to say to that.  _ You murdered them, and I covered it up. Greatest generation, representing strong.  _ They worked in silence for a while longer until Natalia announced that she was awake with a loud cry. “Lemme go get her, I’ll be back.” 

“Stee,” she whimpered as he picked her up. 

“You woke up alone this time, I know. I know. But look, I’m still here,” Steve said, patting her back. “I’m not ditching you, ‘talia. You’re stuck with me.” He carried her back into the kitchen, helping Bucky as much as he could with a toddler on his hip. She didn’t scream at the sight of him this time, though Bucky avoided eye contact and didn’t try to talk to her. It was a tentative peace, but Steve would take it. “This is Bucky,” he said. “Say hi, Nat. He’s my friend.” 

Nat shook her head firmly. “Zimniy soldat.” 

Bucky flinched, turning to look at Steve. Nat hid her face against Steve’s chest, and Steve grimaced. “Did she-?”

“Yeah. I know you don’t remember her, but she obviously remembers you. Or stories about you, or something.” 

“So if you remember beating the fuck out of little girls,” Tony said, “let us know, would you?” 

Steve ground his teeth, but before he could turn around and tell him to put a sock in it, the oven timer went off, dinging quietly. And hell broke loose.

Bucky froze completely still, eyes huge. His hands shook slightly where they were. Nat shook in his arms. “Gotovy soblyudat, gotovy soblyudat, gotovy soblyudat, gotovy soblyudat,” she sobbed, the words rattling out of her compulsively. Tears fell thick and fast from her eyes, her face going completely white. Bucky sunk slowly to the floor, lifting his hands slowly and covering his ears up. 

Steve hugged Nat, completely bewildered. “Nat, Nat _ , shh. _ Babygirl, what is it? Shh, shh, shh, you’re okay, you’re okay.” 

Tony practically dove between them to shut the timer off, and there was a few moments of total silence while everyone caught their breath. Even Nat was quiet. Bucky’s hands came down from his ears. He had an odd expression on his face. Steve took a few steps backwards, pushing Tony behind him with his free arm. If this was going to get ugly, he needed Tony to take Nat and get out fast. The only person who could stand up against the Winter Soldier for any length of time was himself..

Or Iron Man, but Steve had no idea how quickly Tony could call a suit. Or if he’d decide to finish what he started back in Siberia. 

“Buck?” he asked hesitantly. 

After an ages-long pause, Bucky nodded. “I’m okay,” he said. He looked shaken, but oddly hopeful as well. “I didn’t...it didn’t trigger my programming. They really- they got it out,” he said. He got to his feet, glancing down at his left hand for a moment. “That trigger, at least.” 

Steve relaxed a little, moving his arm from where he’d been holding Tony back. Nat was still shaking. He smoothed her hair down in slow, consistent movements. “Okay, carrot top. You’re okay.” She didn’t say anything, or make as much as a sound. Her hands had made fists in his shirt again. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I got you, babygirl.” 

“What was she saying?” Tony asked, turning to Bucky.

Bucky frowned. He didn’t say anything for a while. Still murmuring to Nat, Steve got the pan out of the oven before their food started burning. Tony didn’t move, still staring Bucky down. 

“Barnes,” Tony demanded. 

Bucky sat at the table, rubbing at his temples like he had a headache. He glowered at Tony, and then looked back down at the table. 

“‘Ready to comply’.” 


	4. Research

It took Steve hours to get Nat to sleep, and she woke up without fail every time he tried to leave. He ended up caving and just letting her sleep on his lap in the living room. There was a conversation to be had, and it was not waiting for morning. 

Tony and Bucky had waited for him, staring daggers at each other from opposite couches. Steve’s eyes flicked between them and he chose the loveseat in between. Hell no was he falling for some sort of psychological trap like that. 

“Okay, Bucky,” Steve said firmly - but _ quietly _ , he wasn’t trying to wake Nat up again after all that. “What do you know?”

“Yeah,  _ Bucky  _ let’s get started on-”

“Shh,” Steve hissed at Tony. “You realize how long I was in there trying to get her down? If you wake her up, you’re putting her back to sleep.”

“ _ Okay _ ,” Tony whispered. “Start talking, Barnes.” 

Bucky shrugged one shoulder, his flesh hand running through his hair. “The problem is that I really can’t remember that much,” he said, eyes darting between Steve and Tony. “And what I can remember, I’m having trouble sourcing. I don’t know what happened when. Or where.” 

“Start. Talking,” Tony said through gritted teeth. 

“I can remember a lot about the Black Widow program, generally,” Bucky began. “They picked girls out of orphanages. Usually waited until they could walk, but that’s around the age they took them. Training started immediately. They showed them hours of American TV, so they’d learn cultural customs and English- with an American accent. Any sort of disobedience meant a beating. For anything. Making noise when they shouldn’t. Sitting when they’re told to stand. At this age, the handlers did it. When they got older, round eight or nine, they had the other girls beat their peers who broke rules.” Bucky rubbed his thumb across his metal wrist. “Or they’d beat all of them for one person’s disobedience. Sometimes the girls would kill each other when one person in particular got them all beat more often than usual. That was rewarded.” 

Steve felt sick to his stomach, looking down at the sleeping toddler in his lap. Tony looked slightly paler, but he didn’t say anything. As their silence stretched on, Bucky continued.

“I think...I think I helped train them for combat,” he said slowly. “I- can’t remember kids this young. I think they had to be late teens at the earliest. Probably so I wouldn’t break them by accident. Nat recognizes me, though, so maybe...maybe she saw me working with older girls?” He shook his head. “I really don’t know. I wish I did. I’m really trying, but it’s just...it’s gone. What I remember most is the beginning. They had to break me before they could do anything else.” His voice was oddly flat, emotionless. Steve’s skin was crawling. “I wish I knew how long I lasted out against them. I stopped being able to resist when Zola’s machine stopped just causing pain and started being able to rip memories out. They took you first,” he said, turning to Steve. “And everything else fell after that, like dominoes. I was a blank slate. And any time things started coming back to me, it was back to the machine. Less came back to me every time.” 

Steve’s head hung. Partly because his eyes were red and he didn’t want Tony to see. Partly because he knew he was responsible, at least partially, for what had happened to Bucky. If he’d reached out just a little further on that train...

The silence continued. Even Tony had nothing to say. 

“I wish I could remember more,” Bucky repeated. “I’m working on it. I’m going through all the documents you found,” he said to Tony, “trying to see if they trigger anything.” 

The air in the room was heavy. Steve had gotten control of his face- mostly, anyway- and could see that even Tony felt the weight of what Bucky had said. 

Bucky got off the couch. “I’m sorry.” He walked out of the room, heading down towards the guest room he’d been staying in. 

Tony almost looked like he was going to say something. Steve waited. He studied the other man’s eyes, wishing very much he could get in his head and see what he was thinking. He did not look hateful. He didn’t even look angry. He just looked tired. 

“Don’t use the oven timer,” Tony said quietly. 

Steve waited until he could hear the elevator reach the next floor before letting out the sigh he’d been holding in. 

 

Every day got a little easier. Well - maybe not easier, but more predictable. Steve and Nat fell into a rhythm. She got used to waking up by herself after her nap- and though she’d still yell for him, it wasn’t panicky as much as it was demanding. He figured out several more things that scared her. Live-action TV shows or movies were a no-go. Animated ones were okay. She liked music, a lot. Steve went through the playlists adult Natasha had made for him and played them for Natalia. She liked anything with a fast beat that Steve could spin her around to. Steve liked Tina Turner’s “What’s Love Got to Do With It?” Nat liked HAIM’s “Little of Your Love”. 

Nat had come to love her nightly bubble bath, and it became one of Tony’s jobs so Steve could have more than an hour nap by himself per day. While she got clean, Steve went to the gym, and Tony started gathering an enormous collection of bath toys for Natalia. He was pretty sure some of them Tony had actually built himself, just for the kid’s entertainment. It was...really sweet, and he would have said so if it wasn’t Tony he’d have had to say it to.

Steve finished his shower, and came back to see Nat still in the bath, giggling as Tony sculpted her soapy hair up into a little mound on top her her head. “ Così carino,” Tony cooed. “So pretty. Say ‘so pretty’.” 

“Pwetty,” Nat repeated. 

“I am loving the mohawk,” Tony said. “It’s a great look for you, pretty girl. I’m gonna tell you that when you’re an adult again, see if you can pull it off still.” 

When Bucky wasn’t around, Tony was like a different person, Steve thought. Which...made sense. How would he have reacted if Zola was just casually hanging around the Tower? He wouldn’t have cared if he was Tony’s friend. And...he probably wouldn’t...exactly have been nice to Tony, either. He wished there was a way for him to help, to fix things, but he’d said his apologies already. It was up to Tony to decide how things went next. 

Nat caught sight of him, sitting up straight and pointing. “Stee!” she said imperiously. 

Realizing he’d been made, he walked into the bathroom and sat on the countertop. “Having a nice bubby?” 

“Bubby.” Nat plucked a mechanical fish which, until she’d grabbed it, had been swimming through the water. “Ryba,” she said. 

“Fish,” Tony corrected. “Fish. Who made you the fish?” 

“Una Tony,” she said, grinning up at him. 

“I am not above buying your love,” he said. Tony’s faded tee was covered in water splashed out of the bath, and he was smiling down at Nat like he actually was her family. Steve didn’t think he looked like someone trying to just buy love. He seemed a lot more like he was earning it honest. Tony wrapped Nat up in a towel and handed her to Steve. “Okay. Back to dad.”

“Thanks.” 

Tony paused. Steve waited for the ‘I’m not doing this for you’, or any variation of the replies he’d gotten used to. “You’re welcome,” Tony said. 

Steve watched him walk down the hallway quietly, not quite able to move until he’d turned the corner and was out of sight.

 

Steve was looking at it like a holding pattern. They were just waiting until Tony could figure out how to fix this mess, and then life would go back to normal. There were times, now and then, when Steve was reading Nat books before bed- and waiting patiently as she pointed to every single character on the page and demanded he repeat their names for her- and sometimes when she was sleepy and just-barely awake in the morning with that grumpy look on her face, and occasionally when she threw her head back and laughed as he spun her around to ABBA, and just every once in a while when she reprimanded his Russian pronunciation, that he thought...maybe he would miss this. 

But not really, life was a mess this way. Even when Sam got back to the base, Steve felt like this whole situation was ten minutes from unraveling into full-scale disaster.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam said. “You got this. Look at her, she’s happy, she’s got LEGOS.” 

“Just because she has LEGOS doesn’t mean I’m not screwing her up worse,  _ Sam _ ,” Steve hissed.

Nat didn’t really get the idea of LEGOS, to be honest. Mostly she liked knocking over things Steve built. Or throwing them all over so Steve would step on them after he put her to bed. Getting one of those shits in the arch of the foot, Steve decided, was worse than getting stabbed in the foot, and he had experience with both. At least when you got stabbed you were allowed to scream cuss words, but hell if he was going to risk waking her in the middle of the night. 

Tony called him down to the workshop on day twenty. Not that anybody was counting. Steve left Nat with Uncle Sam, who she’d grown rather fond of, though he was still second place to Uncle Tony, and they were both half a galaxy, inexplicably, behind her attachment to Steve. 

“I want to show you something,” Tony said. He’d reassembled the weapon that the agents had used on Nat, and had built a something-else.

Steve stepped up to the table, examining the small maze that sat on top. A small corral to the side held a lab rat positioned at the beginning of the maze. Tony lifted a gate, and a rat ran through the maze, expertly racing through the turns to reach the food at the end. “Okay,” Steve said dubiously. 

Tony held a finger up. “Alright. So this is what they used on Nat,” he said. “Don’t look, it’s really bright.” Steve turned his head, and waited for the burst of light to fade. When he looked back, a little baby rat sat in the corral. “So that’s what’s happened to Nat so far, right?”

“Right…” 

Tony lifted the gun he’d built and shot a blast from that. The rat returned to its previous size. Steve grinned, but it faded fast at the grim look on Tony’s face. Tony lifted the gate. The rat sat there, unmoving for a while. Then slowly began to explore. But it took the turns all wrong. Figuring it out all over again. “I can fix her body,” Tony said. “But...I can’t recreate her life experiences. If I use this, she’ll be the right age again. But her brain will still be three years old.” 

Steve’s face fell. That was worse than having her just be three. “Is...is there another way, or-?”

“Pieces of this tech are alien. It’s possible there’s a way to restore her mind too, but I’d need- I mean. Expertise. A lifetime of research might not be able to teach me how this works,” Tony said, rubbing his hands over his face. 

Steve nodded, still stunned from the revelation that Nat might  _ always  _ be like this. What would they do? Send her to school? Tell her that no, honey, they wouldn’t be able to go to parent-teacher conferences because the Avengers were fending off whateverthefuck? 

“I’m trying to get in touch with Strange,” Tony said. 

“What?”  _ Getting strange _ had been, in Steve’s day, a euphemism for sex, generally of the kinky variety. He wasn’t going to stand here and start critiquing Tony’s sex life, but it seemed an odd thing to announce. Especially to him.

“Doctor Steven Strange. He’s - I really don’t know what he is, actually, but he’s apparently an expert in alien and other...weird shit,” Tony said, waving a hand dismissively. 

“Oh, oh. Alright.” Steve rocked onto his toes and back, feeling totally helpless. He watched the rat fumble through the maze, hitting dead end after dead end. It sat down and started cleaning its whiskers. “Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked, turning to Tony again. 

Tony sighed and sat at his desk, opening a drawer. He set the bottle of liquor on the desk and poured some out into two glasses. He slid one towards Steve. “I don’t like getting help, and I don’t like waiting,” he said. “But that’s all there really is left to do.”

Steve nodded. He could agree wholeheartedly on both points. “Cheers to that,” he said, clinking his glass against Tony’s. He took a sip of the liquor and immediately held the glass up. “Fuckin’ christ. This is amazing. What is this?”

“My friend, this is twenty-year-old whiskey.” 

Steve glanced down at the glass again, taking another sip. He tried not to read into the ‘friend’ comment. He highly doubted Tony meant that as anything more than a figure of speech. “Jesus. We used to drink such piss,” he said with a smile. “Dugan used to call the scotch we got overseas the ‘gasoline special’.” He laughed a little to himself, shaking his head.

Tony grinned back. “There’s kind of a coming-of-age thing about drinking shitty booze. My dad always had the good stuff around, though, so I just stole his. He never seemed to notice anyway.” He took another big swig and set the glass down. “You ever drink with him?” 

Steve shook his head. “I didn’t know him that well. And I only knew him during the war. Wasn’t a lot of time for hanging out and drinking. And I couldn’t get drunk after the serum anyway. Except for on that stuff Thor has, that really fucked me up once.”

“And I wasn’t there to see it,” Tony said mournfully. “Now that’s a shame.” 

He smirked. “Yeah, you coulda seen me drunk dancing like a pick-me-up.” 

Tony actually laughed. “You are so damn old, Steve. I don’t even really know what that means, but I’m sad nobody put it on YouTube.” 

Tony was extending an olive branch, Steve realized. He felt guilty for assuming the worst of him. They both, he’d noticed, had nasty habits of assuming the other meant the absolute worst thing by any possible word or action. If they were going to live together, even temporarily, they had to come to some sort of peace. Steve felt ashamed for his part in continuing the hostility. 

It felt really good, sitting here and laughing like they were...buddies or something. They hadn’t really been good friends before all the hell of last year had happened. Steve hadn’t expected their relationship to get  _ better  _ after Tony had attempted to kill him. It almost seemed like Tony was thinking the same thing. He glanced away, cleared his throat. Steve set his empty glass beside Tony’s.

“Let me know if you need help,” Steve said. He paused in the door before leaving. “And...thanks for the drink.” 

 

Steve and Nat had their follow-up appointment with Doctor Aliya after the one month mark. It went smoothly, and Aliya told Steve how happy she was to see Nat making so much progress. Nat spoke to Aliya, told her her name, and even smiled at some of the little games Aliya played with her, though she still didn’t fully cooperate. Steve felt guilty, told her that Nat still woke up screaming - not every night, but most of them - and that she would totally shut down if she heard the oven timer go off, and that certain phrases in Russian terrified her to tears. Aliya told him that that was to be expected, that those things might not go away for years. She was young enough, Aliya hoped, to forget a lot of the things that had been done to her by the time she was an adult.

Steve wasn’t sure how much longer he’d have with Nat.  But for the first time, he was starting to consider the potential reality that he really might be taking care of her for years. Maybe ever. The thought scared him shitless.

 

Steve came back into the kitchen after his shower. Sam and Bucky were making dinner together, Tony pacing around the room on the phone with someone or another. Steve scanned the room for a small redhead, suspicious of the relative quiet, and found her on the one of the counters, holding a bag of Halloween candy. It wasn’t going to be worth much to her, as she couldn’t actually get the wrappers open, but still. The  _ nerve  _ this little punk had. 

“Natalia Romanova, what do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

Nat stared at him with huge eyes. “ _ I have candy _ ,” she said in Russian. 

“ _ You are not have candy _ ,” Steve replied. His Russian was messy, but so was hers, so it mostly worked out. “Did anyone say you could have candy?”

She pouted. “My want candy,” she argued, switching to English as an attempt to placate him. Steve could see so much of her adult self in this three year old attempt to bargain and reason. 

Steve took the bag and put it back up in the cabinet. _ Mental note: Secure candy. And figure out how the fuck she got up there. _ “Just ‘cause you want it doesn’t mean you can have it. You have to ask for candy.” 

“I have candy?” she asked, smiling extra-sweetly.

“No. If you eat all your dinner, maybe you can have some.” Her eyes narrowed, but Steve took her down from the countertop and shooed her over to her toys. The last thing he needed was for her to decide it was okay to start throwing tantrums. He was willing to put up with a whole lot, but hell if he was going to let her become a brat on his watch. “Go play.” 

Nat hugged his leg. “Wif me?”

He’d put his foot down about the candy, but he really did have a hard time saying no to her little face when all she wanted was company.

 

Steve still found himself waking up in a cold sweat, shaking and feeling like he was having an asthma attack again. His nightmares usually didn’t wake him screaming, the way Nat’s did, and he was glad for that, so he didn’t wake her up. He didn’t want to leave her - she always cried when she woke up alone. So instead of running until his legs burned, Steve piled on extra blankets and tried to stop shivering, tried to stop reimagining what it had felt like to freeze to death. Sometimes he snuggled Nat against him like a talisman against the memories that haunted him. She rolled over, mumbling incoherently and curling up against his chest, her face buried in his tee shirt. 

“Someday maybe they’ll stop,” he whispered. “We’ll both just sleep like logs, every night. What do you think, carrot top?” She had no idea what he was talking about, was passed out asleep, and also three, but he still felt a lot less alone. 


	5. The Underwear Drawer

“So,” Steve said as Tony sat at the table with a cup of coffee. Bucky was strategically sliding Cheerios across the table to Nat. She waited until he pretended to not be looking before grabbing them and eating them. It was progress, of a sort. Tony looked half awake, his hair sticking up unevenly. Steve found that oddly gratifying. He knew Tony wasn’t perfect, but god, the guy had a real  _ thing _ about seeming perfect. Tony took a few big gulps of coffee, but didn’t respond. Sam grunted to indicate that he was listening as he picked his head up.

“ _ So, _ ” Steve repeated, waiting for Tony and Bucky to look at him. “I think it’s time to start going through Tasha’s stuff.” They didn’t respond, so he continued on. “I don’t like the idea of it,” Steve said. “I think it’s invasive of her privacy, but...it’s time to go through her underwear drawer and figure out what she was poking at that got the Red Room or whoever it actually is involved.” 

“Why would you look in her underwear drawer for that?” Sam chuckled. “I mean. Nat was pretty weird, but-” 

“Figuratively,” Steve said, shooting a glare at him. “And I think it’s time.”

Sam nodded. Bucky opened his mouth to speak, but Tony interrupted before he could.

“Yeah, I did that about an hour after we got back here with her,” Tony yawned. “I’ve already been going through the research she was doing. Pulled all her search histories, tracked her movements around, where she went, who she talked to, y’know. The works.” 

“Are you  _ kidding me _ , Stark?” Steve wanted to throw his mug at Tony’s stupid sleepy face. This was exactly what had caused the shitfire mess earlier that year. “You fucking- this is what I meant, you- just go and do shit that affects all of us without asking anyone else what they-”

“I did too,” Bucky interrupted. “That first night we got here.” 

Steve rounded on him, furious and now feeling betrayed. “And you didn’t think this was something you oughta share with-”

“As much as it pains me to agree with Memento over here, and it does, trust me,” Tony said, “we had to. I kinda thought you had your hands full playing house with Nat.” 

Bucky nodded. “Steve, she’s...for all intents and purposes, she’s gone. I think it’s safe to say our Natasha would want us to do what we can to fix this, right?”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. He could hear the logic in what they were saying but he didn’t like it for shit. This was exactly what had caused the disaster that had almost gotten himself and Bucky killed. The secret keeping. Just going ahead and  _ acting  _ before running anything by the rest of the team. 

Sam glanced at Steve before piping up. “You guys should have told us,” he said. “Did you even talk to each other about this?”

Tony and Bucky shared one guilty glance before shrugging. “Nah, it- nah. We’re doing different things,” Tony said hastily. Steve’s expression was stony, and in response Tony’s mouth turned down into a harsh line. “I’m not working with him.”

“You can’t work separately,” Sam said. He glanced at Bucky. “That’s just asking for things to get looked-over, details to get lost. It’s a bad idea.” 

“I’m fine by myself,” Bucky said tightly.

“Fine,” Tony echoed, glaring at Sam. 

“You want Miss Muffet instead?” Steve threatened, jerking his head towards the Cheerio-munching Nat. Right now she was the picture of cherubic little baby, shyly stealing peeks at Bucky in between bites, red curls neatly brushed back into pigtails. Steve knew that didn’t fool anybody at the table. They’d all - some more than others - borne witness to the screaming fits, the hysteria, the stubborrness, the freakish capacity for violence, considering the fact that she could barely talk. 

Tony paled. 

Bucky’s expression was almsot defiant. “She won’t let me, and you know that.” 

Steve’s eyes narrowed. Bucky did have him cornered there. He turned on Tony, who shook his head again. He understood why Tony wouldn’t want to work with the guy who murdered his parents. But they needed to collaborate if there was hope of getting their Natasha back. “You don’t have to - spend time together. Just share research. You can email each other or something”

There was a long and tense silence, but Tony eventually conceded with a nod, Bucky with a sigh. Steve would count it as a win. 

 

He hadn’t left the base since he’d gotten here with Nat, and he was starting to go stir-crazy. Sam, who had taken point on the diplomacy missions, was trying to figure out how exactly the reinstatement of citizenships was going to work, along with Vision, Rhodes, and a bunch of suits Steve didn’t know. He decided against popping into that room, instead just leaving a message with FRIDAY.

“Okay, carrot top. Wanna go play outside?” he asked. “We’ll go for a little car ride, I found us a playground nearby.” 

“Play?” He’d said the magic words. Steve watched with a smile as Nat delicately navigated through the mess of LEGOS on the floor. “Play ousside?” 

Steve wrestled her into sneakers - shoes, another thing he’d discovered Nat really hated - and then clipped her into the front seat. The seatbelt went way over her head, but at least the lap part was fine. He took the truck, not interested in any of Tony’s muscle cars for the sake of flying under the radar. Steve put on one of the playlists Tasha had made him, the one with all the ABBA, to keep Nat entertained as they drove. She hopped onto her knees to peek out of the window.

Steve mainly wanted to get out of the house, but partly was curious to see how Nat would do around other kids. Dr. Aliya had told him that it was a good idea to give that a try, but warned him that the odds of her suddenly becoming a social butterfly were very, very low. “Just keep an eye on her,” she’d said. “If she gets violent, take her out of the situation right away and explain as gently as you can that she can’t act that way.” 

He could do that. Steve parked the car in front of a coffee shop nearby, glancing down at the set of texts on his phone. 

[Stark] friday said you went AWOL 

[Stark] rogers, that means where the hell are you going

[Stark] ok, other than a starbucks there’s nothing interesting around you for miles

[Stark] you can’t just drop her off at a daycare in a cardboard box you know

He sighed and started typing a reply when someone knocked on his window. He lowered it hesitantly about halfway. Just in case. 

“Can I help you?” 

“Excuse me,” the woman said, removing the sunglasses from her face and pushing them into her dyed reddish hair. “Did you just - drive here? With her in the front seat?” 

Steve could tell he’d done something wrong. He glanced at Nat, who was busy trying to undo the velcro on her shoes. “Um. Yes?” He watched the middle-aged woman practically inflate with rage. 

“I should report you to the police,” she hissed. “You can’t just drive a toddler around without a carseat. In the front! Are you watching her for someone else?” 

“Carseat?” Wasn’t she in a car seat? Was there something he didn’t know, what was she so angry about? “I- no, she’s - she’s mine,” he stammered. It was sort of true, and honestly, the last thing on his mind while this lady grew redder in the face.

“Yes, a carseat,” she said. The woman glanced away, as if too horrified to continue. “You can’t just drive her around without one. It’s not safe. You could get her killed. Don’t you care?”

“I- didn’t. I’m sorry, I didn’t know- ” His heart was starting to race. Fuck, how the hell would he have known? He still didn’t really know what a carseat was, he didn’t know what he’d done wrong except that there was obviously something, and something bad enough that a stranger felt a need to pick a fight with him over it. 

“Don’t you drive her home without one,” the woman said. “It’s reckless. It’s just reckless. How can you call yourself a father? You should be ashamed of yourself.” 

“I’ll - make sure. Someone brings me one…” he mumbled. 

She walked away with her coffee, and Steve raised the window back up. 

His face burned with humiliation, shock, and - as requested, shame. He didn’t call himself a father, he never tried, but...he must be a shittier babysitter than he’d thought. He focused on loosening his tight grip on the wheel, eyes closing as he let his head fall against it for a few moments. _ Fuck. _ Fuck, what was he doing here? Why was this his job when he didn’t even know what a carseat was? Why, why had she chosen him to cling to, when she could have picked anyone else. Someone better. Someone who shouldn’t be ashamed of themselves for endangering a baby. Steve heard the rip of Velcro and lifted his head enough to look at a grinning Nat, holding up one of her shoes.

“B ashmak!” she announced victoriously. 

“Shoe,” he said quietly. Steve sat up, rubbing at his face. 

“Soo,” she repeated. “Bashmak.” Nat climbed up, holding onto his arm and waving the shoe in his face. “ _ Bashmak _ ,” she insisted.

“Bashmak,” he repeated obediently. “Shoe.” She was still smiling proudly, oblivious to what a fucking reckless idiot her caretaker was. Steve sighed. “Okay. Let’s - let’s get a coffee and then...play outside.” He carried her on his hip into the shop, picking up his phone to make another phone call he didn’t really want to make.

“You could always text,” Tony said. “Haven’t you figured that out yet, gramps?”

“I need a carseat,” he said. “For Nat.” Nat leaned over, planting two chubby hands on the glass as she ogled the baked goods. 

“Khochu cookie,” Nat informed him. “Want cookie.” 

“Did you drive her all the way out there without one?” Tony asked, after a pause. 

Steve bit his lip. “Do we even- I didn’t even know we had one. I...don’t even know what it is,” he admitted. “Some lady just yelled at me in the parking lot for putting her in danger. I...didn’t know, I- don’t know.” 

“I’ll bring one out,” Tony said. “Are you okay? You sound a little - ” 

Steve focused on trying to get his breaths back into a regular rhythm. “I’m- fine. I just. I don’t know, that...I don’t even know what that is and some lady’s tryna tell me I’m a reckless, child-endangering idiot who oughta be ashamed.” Steve could hear the panic creeping back into his own voice. 

“Cookie! Stee, cookie, cookie,” Nat pleaded.

Tony’s voice was surprisingly...not chewing Steve out. “Why would you have known? Have you ever even owned a car?”

Steve shook his head, then realized Tony couldn’t see him. He stared at the ceiling fan and counted the rotations for a few moments. Much as he gave him shit about it, Sam’s grounding techniques...worked. “I didn’t even know anyone who owned a car when I was younger,” he admitted. “You can have a cookie, Nat, stop it. It’s coming, we’re in line. Sometimes you gotta wait for things.” 

“I’ll send one out to you,” Tony said. “Just give me an hour or two.” 

Steve sat in the shop as Nat munched on her cookie. Since they were stuck, he didn’t want to wear her out before Tony could get the carseat out here. Though the playground was mostly empty, Nat didn’t want to be further than a few feet away from him at first, so he’d ended up standing close by as she climbed up and down a little plastic treehouse for a while. She’d consented to the sneakers, only because Steve had given her an ultimatum -- no sneakers, no cookie. “Mommy and daddy,” Nat told him, pointing across the playground to a couple walking with a stroller. “Baby.” 

Steve nodded. “Mmhm.” He took a few sips of his iced coffee. Iced coffee fell into the category of things he liked most about this time - things that could have existed, technologically, except that no one had thought of them yet. Iced coffee and those little plastic drawers that rolled out so cabinets were easier to organize. And caps for toothbrushes for when you traveled. “How about them?” he asked, pointing to a child around her age.

“Baby,” she repeated. 

Steve smirked. “Are you a baby?” 

“No!” Nat dropped out of the treehouse and crawled under a big slide.

A blond little girl around her age poked her head out of the opening. “Hi.” Nat ignored this entirely, scowling and ducking behind the plastic, reaching back for the leg of Steve’s jeans. “I wike your sneaker,” the girl informed her. “Watch me go!” she said, racing for the ladder and climbing up. 

“Go slow.” A woman with similar blond hair pulled back into a ponytail smiled at the kid. Steve assumed she was the mom. “I never know what she’s going to fall out of next,” she laughed. “Jenny,” she said, extending a hand for him to shake. 

“Steve.” He didn’t really know what to say. He’d never been great at smalltalk. “How old is she?” 

“Three and a half,” Jenny replied. “Her name’s Charlotte.” 

“This is Nat,” he said, shaking his leg, where Nat was now clinging. “She’s three.” Or threeish, they thought at least. “How ‘bout a hello?” Nat shook her head, though she did let go of his pant leg to peek into the opening of the slide. 

“She’s beautiful. Guess she gets the red hair from mom, huh?” 

“Oh - um. I don’t know. She’s adopted,” Steve said, choosing the easiest answer that wasn’t quite a lie. 

Jenny’s glittering smile was almost blindingly white. “Aww. That’s just so sweet. You and your wife are kind people.” 

Steve shrugged one shoulder. “No, it’s - um. Just me.”

She nodded, glancing back at the playground. “Kind of the same here. Charlotte’s dad passed a few months after she was born.” Her peppy smile had faded. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said quietly. 

“We have a group,” she offered, after a moment of quiet. “Single parents in the area. When the weather’s nice, we meet up here on Saturdays at ten am. You’re welcome to come. Mostly it’s just to hang out. It’s good to talk to other people who know what it’s like.” 

The discomfort he felt was difficult to describe. Imposter syndrome, or something like it. He wasn’t a parent. He was - fuck, he was barely a half-decent babysitter. Steve nodded, watching Nat, who was...well, not quite interacting with Charlotte, more staring at her, but still. It was her interested stare, not her hostile one. That was sort of good. 

“I...maybe I’ll come by sometime.”

Jenny smiled. “It’s really nice, low pressure. It’s tough doing this on your own.” 

“What am I, then, chopped liver?” Tony had his hands in his pockets as he approached. “Ready to go? Nat’s gonna be a terror if you let her tire herself out here without a nap all day.” 

Steve was oddly relieved to see him. “Jenny, this is my - uh - roommate, Tony. Tony, this is Jenny. Nat, c’mon. Jenny, it was really nice meeting you and Charlotte.” Steve waited for a moment, watching Nat grin as Charlotte played peek-a-boo with her. “C’mon, carrot top. Let’s go.” 

“Nice meeting you, Steve,” Jenny said. “Lottie, say goodbye.” Steve recieved a very bouncy, very adorable leg-hug before Charlotte took back off up the slide. 

Tony started laughing the minute they were near the parking lot. “So, were you here to pick up MILFs or was that just a fun coincidence?” 

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think she was hitting on me.” 

“ _ Oh _ , well if you say so.” Tony smirked as he twirled the keys around on his finger. 

“I wasn’t trying to pick up anybody. What’s a MILF? And...how did you get here?” he asked, glancing at the parking lot, which didn’t have any of Tony’s cars in it. 

“Mom I’d like to fuck. And I flew,” he said, gesturing to the slightly-overlarge wristwatch he wore. 

Steve wrinkled his nose up in disgust. “That’s gross.” 

Tony opened the car door and took out a large box. He started busting it open to reveal a big padded seat. “Flying is normal and natural, Cap.” 

“Chair,” Nat informed him. 

Steve set her down to help get all the styrofoam and plastic off the seat. “Mm-hm. It’s a special chair for you. Wanna hold a piece? Here. That’s for you.” She crinkled the plastic, rubbing it up and down Steve’s back. Which was...fine. At least he knew where she was and that she was occupied. 

Tony’s gaze flicked up to Steve’s. “I had FRIDAY compile a list of some other kid-safety stuff for all of us,” he said. “Team briefing tonight.” 

He was being generous. Everyone else would know those things already, they’d probably all grown up with them. Except Bucky, who Nat was still kind of afraid of. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I just...I already don’t know what I’m doing. Felt like shit having some lady...I don’t know. Prove myself right that I’m fucking up.” 

Tony lifted the seat up and bent into the car to buckle it in. A few muffled cusses later, he had it in place. Getting Nat into the seat was another battle. She screamed hysterically when they clipped her in, little hands shaking as they held onto Steve’s shirt. Tony ended up loosening the straps, though it was a little counterproductive, just so that her screams petered out into more manageable crying. 

“It’s this bad because she’s tired,” Steve muttered. “You’re okay, pumpkin. I promise.” He held onto her hands, each one clenched tightly around one of his fingers as she hiccuped through sobs. “Nat, it’s okay. I promise. You’re okay. I’m not gonna let you get hurt. I know you don’t like the straps, I know.” 

“I’ll drive home,” Tony offered. “Sit back there with her, maybe that’ll help.” 

It certainly didn’t hurt. Nat wore herself out into staring blankly outside the window within twenty minutes. Well. That just made getting out of the house a lot harder. 

“I don’t think you’re fucking up.” 

Steve looked forward to see Tony’s eyes reflected in the rearview mirror. Brown eyes flicked quickly away and back towards the road. 

“I think you’ve got it handled,” Tony said, nodding once. 

Steve felt like he was holding onto the end of a rocket and just hoping for dear life, but...it meant a lot to hear. Even from Tony. Maybe especially because it came from him. 

“Thanks for bringing her the seat.” 

“Yeah, well. You’ve done about everything else, so.” 

Tony could blow it off, but he’d still interrupted his whole day to come out here and do this. Steve wouldn’t forget that. 


	6. Checkpoint

Nat eventually fell asleep, though Steve stayed in the backseat, afraid she’d be scared if she woke up alone - and strapped to something no less. She napped until they arrived at the base, and woke up cranky, scowling out at the world with as much fury as she could muster. Steve carried her inside.

“I’m just going to leave the carseat there,” Tony said. “This can be the dad-mobile from now on.”

“Thank you,” Steve said again, but it didn’t feel like enough to just say it.

 

They did have a team briefing that night after Nat was asleep -- run by Tony and Friday in almost equal parts, with Sam interjecting his opinion as an uncle from time to time. Steve learned a few more things people did to baby-proof their lives (much of them wouldn’t work on Nat, who’d sharpened a binder clip with a rock until it could cut through stuffed animals), but mostly he felt guilty about the fact that he’d been endangering Nat and he hadn’t even realized. A few more decisions were made, namely to vaccinate her, since they had no idea what her health record was actually like. She wouldn’t like having to get the shots, but Steve remembered polio far to well to not take the precaution.

Dr. Aliyah came again to do them, and since Nat now associated her with candy, she was pretty excited to see her. She took the shots better than Steve thought she might, though it could have been because of how expertly the doctor misdirected her attention.

“It looks like she’s made a lot of progress,” she said with a smile. “How are you feeling?”

Steve shrugged and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I still don’t really know what I’m doing, but...I don’t know. She’s learned a lot more words, she’s way better at communicating. And my one friend doesn’t scare her into screaming anymore. I can leave her with Sam, or with Tony and she’ll be okay for a few hours. They can’t really put her to bed, but that’s been okay so far. I don’t know. Some stuff still sends her...into a dark place.”

“I’m glad to hear your team is helping, and happy to see her attachment to you is much healthier,” the doctor agreed. She was quiet for a little while longer before speaking again. “That dark place may always be there, Steve. I have hope that in time she’ll forget most everything, but there’s a chance that may not happen. She’ll just need to be strong enough to live with it.” She touched Steve’s shoulder and got a wave from Nat before leaving.

Her words lingered with Steve long after she’d left the base. He knew that the Natasha he’d loved was one of the strongest people he knew, but because she’d had to be. She’d been forged in hell and pain and danger and had come out strong as hell. He’d grown up getting beaten nearly to death by his own father, and it had made him strong too. He didn’t want his carrot top to _have_ to be that strong. He wanted to give her the privilege of being soft, the privilege of being vulnerable. Steve knew that steel core was in there, but he’d be willing to die to keep it covered with whatever innocence Nat had left.

He woke up more often than not because Nat was climbing into his bed. She’d done it with screams at first, but it had just become part of her routine now, as she pulled herself up and tucked herself under his arm to wait for him to get up and make breakfast. Steve kissed her head.

“Sonnaya devushka. Good morning, sleepy girl.”

“Waffle,” Nat croaked.   


"Great point, pumpkin, hard to argue with that." 

As they stepped into the kitchen, Steve found that their numbers had grown. Clint had come home. Clint stared at Nat for a few long moments, one hand over his mouth.

“Sam explained, I just...wow.” He took a few steps closer to her. Steve wasn’t sure if he looked heartbroken or just shocked. It was definitely a big change, and they’d been so close for so long. “Hi. I’m Clint.”

Nat blinked at him grumpily, turning her face against Steve’s chest. Steve grimaced sympathetically. “It takes a bit to get used to,” he agreed. “Nat, say hi.”

“Niet,” she rasped.

Steve’s look was apologetic, but Clint waved a hand. “That’s okay. I’ll just be over here with these cookies I got here…” he said, letting the words trail off.

Steve suppressed a groan, but Nat’s head perked right up. He didn’t love the idea of her starting her day with a load of sugar...but still. Clint had been her best friend. He wanted to know her, even the miniature version of her.

“Nat?” Clint asked. “Did you want one?” She held out a chubby hand, but Clint didn’t give it to her.

“How about you ask nice?” Steve suggested. “‘Uncle Clint, may I have a cookie please?’” Steve nudged her a little, trying to goad her into being at least a little less hostile.

“Cookie pwease,” she said, reaching further for it while still keeping a hand gripping onto Steve’s shirt. “Cookie _pwease._ ”

Clint smiled and broke it in half, giving a piece to her. Nat stuffed it into her mouth whole. “We’re still working on unlearning that habit,” Steve apologized. “Where’s Wanda? Is she okay?”

Clint’s smile turned a little sad. “She’s okay. She’s safe. She’s just not...here,” he said. “Viz helped me find her eventually. He’s with her now.”

Steve knew Clint had always felt at least a little responsible for Wanda. He was the one who’d gotten through to her, who she’d gone to for a lot of different things, especially after Pietro had been killed. Steve pulled fingers absently through the tangles in Nat’s hair, smoothing out the ringlets.

“Does she wanna come back, or - ?” he asked hopefully. He’d come to regard the fellow Avenger as something like a little sister, and honestly, he missed her.

Clint shook his head, and he scuffed his shoe along the floor. “I don’t think she’s ready for that yet.”

“Mo cookie,” Nat insisted.

“No,” Steve said firmly. “You’re not starting the day with more cookies, you can have breakfast and we’ll see if you can have another one later.” The sweet tooth the damn kid had was mindblowing. Nat was already starting to whine, but Steve shook his head again, already heading towards the corner of the living room they’d designated as a play area for her. “Nope. No tears, that doesn’t get us treats, right? Right. How about some blocks, carrot top?”

Nat was pouting moodily, and protested with a loud ‘niet’ as he set her down. Sensing an oncoming fit, Steve sat crosslegged so she could curl up in his lap like an angry cat. Nat sat on his knee and set about taking every toy in the box out. Clint came and sat nearby, helping take things out of the box with her.

“Wow, look at this. What’s this, Nat?”

“Kitty,” she replied, taking the stuffed animal and glaring sideways at him.

Clint pulled out a little dog and made it woof a few times. “How ‘bout this?” Clint made the dog sniff her, tickling her cheeks with it.

She swiped it from him and hugged it, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Goggy.”

“Oooh. How about this one?” Clint flapped the wings of a little stuffed bird.

Arms overflowing, Nat couldn’t reach out to take it, but still piped up with its name. “Birdy. Tweet tweet.”

“Yeah, he does say tweet. Do you say tweet?”  

“No!” Nat said, grinning now.

Steve ruffled her hair. “What do you say, Nat?”

“No!” she giggled again, and Steve actually laughed.

“That’s a good answer. She loves ‘no’,” he told Clint. “ _Loves_ it.”

Whether it was because he was a dad or just because he was good at kids, or maybe some part of her connected with him, Nat took to Clint right away. She still wanted Steve close, but as they played on the floor, she even let Clint touch her without protest. And for a first meeting, that was pretty amazing. He read Nat a few books while Steve made her breakfast, and she obviously seemed to like him. After lunch, when Steve had tucked her in for a nap, Steve closed her door to actually talk with him.

“We were really anxious for you to get home,” Steve said. “I wanted to pull you out of your mission right away when this happened.”

Clint nodded a little. “I’m glad you didn’t, but I don’t blame you for being freaked out. A kid is...y’know. A lot. Even if you’re planning on having one. Especially if you’re not.”

“I know you have - um. Normal kids and not...but - I don’t know. I’m glad you’re here, I have no idea what I’m doing,” Steve said.

Clint laughed. “All kids are a little messed up. When Cooper was four, he one time looked me dead in the eye and said ‘if the house burns down, all of mommy’s flowers will die’. Out of the goddamned blue. It was like something out of a horror movie, I swear,” he chuckled. He glanced at the open door of Steve’s suite. “But yeah, she’s… at breakfast, I kept watching how she’d jump if anybody put down a glass too hard. She’s...seen some stuff.”

Steve nodded. “She’s tough, though.” He was quiet for another moment. “I’m really worried I’m messing this up. I don’t wanna make anything worse for her, and I just...I’m a fish out of water here. I never even babysat before this.”

Clint sipped at a now-cold mug of coffee. “Seems like you’ve got it handled,” he said mildly. “She’s a tough little bugger but she obviously loves you.”

Steve was quiet, nodding once.

Clint glanced over at him, setting the mug down. “We could take her,” he offered. “Laura and I. If you wanted. At this point, one more won’t make it that much crazier.”

He blinked a few times, feeling his whole chest tighen like a giant fist had closed around it. “Oh. Uh. I don’t know. I think Nat wouldn’t handle that well.” Steve found his heart racing, searching for a good reason to turn down the way out he’d been telling himself he needed. “She- um. The doctor we took her to told me about the attachment issues Nat has, being away from her would be bad for her, wreck her trust issues back up again.”

Humming, Clint nodded. “Damn, yeah, didn’t think of that. Just let me know if it gets better and you think it’d be okay to send her out to the farm, we’ll always be okay to take her.”

Steve smiled somewhat nervously. “Thanks, Clint. That’s- real nice of you two. How’s- baby Nathaniel?” he asked.

Clint’s whole expression brightened. “He’s amazing. He’s actually not much younger than Nat. Maybe they’d get along. He’s a funny little guy, makes the best expressions. He keeps the older kids laughing. His favorite thing right now is saying ‘uh oh’ anytime me or Laura cuss. It’s hilarious. Reminds me to watch my mouth around him.”

“God, Nat’s already ruined there,” Steve griped. “Can’t count the number of times I’ve cussed a blue streak in front of her. Sometimes because of her. She’s gonna sound like a sailor before she’s in kindergarten.”

They laughed and swapped ‘my dumb three year old’ stories for a while, but all Steve could think about was how much he felt like he’d dodged a bullet. Even in her cranky post-nap whining, Steve brushed the knots out of her hair and wondered why he felt like he’d almost lost something precious. She’d turned his life into a mess, a goddamned mess. He constantly was worried he was going to ruin her. He couldn’t do anything without thinking about how it would affect her. He barely thought about anything except the kid fate had slapped into his incompetent hands.

And yet, given the opportunity to give her away to someone who loved her, someone who was a good parent, who knew her and could care for her probably better than Steve could...the thought of letting her go was like the thought of ripping out his own liver and kicking it off the Brooklyn bridge.

“I love you, Nat, y’know that?”

Nat blinked at him owlishly and laid her head on his shoulder. He stood in her nursery for a while longer, rocking her slowly back and forth and trying to remember the words of a lullaby.

 

The moment couldn’t last -- they never really could, could they? Tony poked his head in.

“We found a lead.”

“Red Room?” Steve asked. He resisted the impulse to cover Nat’s ears. It wasn’t like she’d know what they were talking about. He appreciated that Tony waited until Nat was good and distracted with  _Moana_ before continuing. Bucky came to sit silently beside Steve, handing him a tablet with several files pulled up.

“The gun,” Bucky said, whispering the word ‘gun’ so Nat wouldn’t hear it, “they shot her with is definitely partly alien, but Stark figured it might have come from some sort of healing chamber.”

“They were trying to heal her?” Steve asked, squinting at the translated Russian.

“No,” Tony interjected, “there’s evidence they tested the weapon before they used it and they say ‘desired results’ enough that it seems like they had to have known what it did, and maybe even tweaked it a little.”

“So they have research,” Steve said, sitting up a little straighter. “They might know how to reverse it.”

“Possibly,” Bucky agreed.

“Robocop thinks there’s a chance,” Tony said slowly, “that...they’re trying to reboot the Black Widow program.”

Steve watched Nat mouthing the words of ‘you’re welcome’ and remembered the blood dripping down her face when he’d first found her, the bruises all over her body, the way she had shivered and the way she still ate too fast, jumped at loud sounds, panicked at the oven timer dinging, and felt an anger that made his clenched fists shake. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for everybody who's stuck with this fic despite the long break in updates! all of your reviews inspired me to keep writing :)


	7. Mission Critical

“Cap, when I said ‘oh, wait’, I meant fucking  _ wait, _ ” Tony hissed.  

Steve heard it, though he felt like his whole body was ringing from whatever energy field he’d leapt into - and been violently thrown back from. He’d heard a light buzz, but the stupid shit had been invisible, and he’d heard Tony’s warning way too late.

“Thanks,” he managed to wheeze. Steve grunted as he got back to his feet - he definitely was going to be bruised from this, but he wasn’t about to let  _ that  _ slow him down. They’d already been away from the base for over twenty hours and, while Nat had grown to love her Uncle Sam, Steve was worried about if she’d be okay. Or if she’d worry he abandoned her. Or if she’d hate him when he got back for leaving her. 

After a few moments, Tony stepped over the line. “It’s down now. Let’s go, Memento, make it fast.” 

Bucky rifled through the files quickly, mumbling to himself in Russian as he searched through pages stacked all over the tiny vault in the safe house they’d invaded.

Steve lifted a page up, eyes narrowed as he scanned the stacks of white paper. The stacks were leaned haphazardly all around the vault in the safehouse, as if tossed in a hurry. “Look at this,” he said to Tony, picking a paper off the top. “What’s wrong here?”

“FRIDAY, translate.”

“No, no. Not the words.” As much progress as Steve was making with speaking Russian, he couldn’t read it for shit. “The paper’s white. The ink is perfect. This is new. The date is old, but the file isn’t isn’t. They just printed this recently, not more than a few years ago.” 

Tony’s faceplate lifted as he took the paper. “Why would they bother reprinting old files?” His suit retracted away from his hands, and his thumb rubbed across the fresh ink. “In a locked vault in a tiny safehouse they didn’t think we knew about? Why not keep digitally encrypting things the way they have been?” 

Steve walked around the room, eyes raking across the space. They’d had enough trouble getting through the digital files - and when Tony had issues breaking into computers, that told Steve that the Red Room’s digital security was no nonsense. All they’d managed to get was locations, metadata that told them where the files originated, though not what they were.

“They’re hiding from you,” Bucky said, lifting his eyes up to Tony. “There’s no computer here. Except for the energy field, there’s almost no technology in here at all.”

“Even that was localized, I couldn’t have found that unless I was already in here looking at it. And it was wired to the grid, not digitally controlled.” Tony’s eyes were faraway, a look Steve had come to associate with him thinking. “They know it’s a matter of time before I duck their protective systems.”

“They’re printing things because they’re completely destroying all of the digital archives,” Bucky agreed. “They don’t want us to be able to piece together what they were doing before…”

“Because then we’ll be able to figure out what they’re doing now.” Steve glared at the floor. “You two were right,” he said to Tony and Bucky. "About them wanting to reboot the Black Widow program.”

“If they were going to try with one girl, they’re going to try with more,” Bucky said morosely. “We need to find them. Soon.”

* * *

 

Steve thought about that the whole flight home. There were more, almost unquestionably. New girls, maybe. Toddlers taken from orphanages, from mothers who couldn’t afford to feed them, from families who were too desperate and too oppressed to do anything but watch their daughters be taken away. He felt sick nearly the whole way. It was cold in the jet, which didn’t help him any in calming down. 

He called Sam. “How’s Nat?” he asked.

“She’s okay,” Sam said. He sounded almost surprised to report as such. “We had a fun day, went to the aquarium, which she  _ loved _ . I almost invited my sister and nieces, but...I didn’t know if she’d play nice. I think next time they should come, she was really good, even when other kids got in her space. I’ll send you the pictures, it was cute. We watched Moana twice because I have no backbone. On that note, she didn’t go to sleep til nearly midnight last night, screamed her guts out for you. Kinda dreading tonight, unless you’ll be home sooner?”

Steve didn’t miss the hopeful lilt to Sam’s voice. “We’ll be home by eight, you can tell her that I’ll be home for bedtime if she acts up.” He caught Sam up on the Red Room, what it seemed like they were trying to do, how they were trying to hide from Tony.

“They’re running scared. Good.”

Steve tried to sleep a little for the rest of the flight, though his mind was still racing too fast to let him. As he leaned against the wall, however, he overheard Bucky speak up.

“Will Steve and Sam get their lives back? Legally?” 

There was quiet in the jet again for a while, for so long Steve thought Tony must not have heard Bucky.

“Probably. Ross is an ass, and a lot of people see that now. I think most of the bureaucrats want to just forgive this and have the two of them on our side.”

“Good.” After a beat, he added, “I never told you I was sorry.” 

The following silence was instantly icy, but Bucky pushed on. “Steve keeps saying it’s not my fault. But I’m really sorry. About your parents. And everything else. When I found out, I wished I’d died when everyone thought I did. That doesn’t fix anything, but...” 

The thrum of the jet’s engine was deafening. 

“They might look at your case, too,” Tony said. “Don’t know how it’ll go, because of - yeah.” There was another moment of silence. “If they pick it up, I’ll - uh. Reccomend you a good lawyer.”

Steve didn’t move from where he was, but a very small smile pulled at his lips.

* * *

 

They brought the whole messy stack of papers for FRIDAY and Bucky to go through and analyze. After bringing the papers inside, Steve changed quickly and practically jogged to the communal space to find Sam and Nat. 

“Nat?” He didn’t hear screaming - which...was good. Probably. “Carrot top?” Steve walked through the kitchen. A vauge but persistent anxiety tugged at him. Was she okay? Had she been alright while he’d been gone? “Nat?” Steve headed towards his room, when he was intercepted by a speeding force that rammed him in the shins. And then started to climb up him. Steve knelt to fold the toddler into his arms, snuggling her in close. “Hi, pumpkin. _ How are you? _ ” he asked, switching to Russian. “ _ How’s my girl? _ ” 

Nat was quiet as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her face against his shoulder. 

“I missed you, Nat. Did you have fun with Uncle Sam? He told me you went to the aquarium and saw lots of fishies.” Steve felt her heart pounding. Was she upset with him for leaving? Had he ruined the trust he’d managed to build?

“Comed back,” she eventually croaked, her voice barely audible.

“I came back?” Steve rubbed her back, glancing up at Sam for clues. The other man nodded once at Steve’s guess. “Of course I came back, carrot top. I love you. I promised you I’d always come back, remember?”

Her hands tightened in the back of his shirt. He could feel the tension in her little body. She really had believed he’d left her behind. He was sure the fact that she was overtired wasn’t helping either, but her very real fear broke his heart.

“No love for Uncle Tony?” Tony rubbed her back a little, but Nat didn’t budge. He offered Steve a sympathetic grimace. 

“Think we missed you too much,” Sam teased. “It’s actually been okay before now,” he said. “I guess she remembered that I’m second rate.” 

Steve squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “You did awesome. I think it’s just probably time for bed. Sound good,  _ little one _ ? I’m real tired, and I bet you are too.” 

Nat didn’t move from where she’d curled against him as he got her ready for bed, not even to pick out books to read, so Steve picked a few of her favorites himself as he climbed into bed and pulled the covers up. “In the great green room. There was a telephone. And a red balloon. And a picture of - a cow jumping over the moon.” Nat’s head picked up, and though she didn’t let go of her vice grip on his shirt, she shifted so she could see. “And there were three little bears sitting on chairs. And two little kittens. And a pair of mittens. And a little toy house. And a young mouse.”

“Mousie,” Nat said, poking the illustration on the page with a chubby finger. 

“Yeah, there he is.” Steve’s fingers combed through a few of her messy curls. Sam hadn’t managed to wrangle her into letting him to brush them which - frankly, Steve would have been shocked if he had. “I missed you so much, Nat. I was sad I didn’t get to read you books last night.” 

Nat nodded once, but didn’t add anything. 

“And a comb and a brush. And a bowl full of mush. And a quiet old lady who was whispering ‘hush’.” 

“You comed back.” Nat said it like a question, looking up at him with expressive eyes. 

“I’m always going to come back,” Steve promised. “We’re family. You, me, Uncle Sam, Uncle Tony, Uncle Bucky, Uncle Clint. You haven’t met Auntie Wanda, but she’s family too. Good families take care of each other, no matter what. And they love each other always, even if they’re mad.” Her little family hadn’t exactly done an exemplary job of  _ that  _ in the past, but Steve was more optimistic than he’d been in months that they could learn from it and move on. “Nat, if you got up from your nap and I wasn’t there, what would happen?”

Her brow furrowed in confusion, her fist tightening in his shirt. 

“Would I come back soon?” he prompted. “Because I love you so much, and I’d miss you?”

Nat relaxed against him. She didn’t respond, though Steve could see that the concept had finally connected for her. It would take far more than one outing to convince her he was telling the truth, but it was a good start. She turned the page expectantly. 

“Goodnight room. Goodnight moon.” 

* * *

 

Steve woke choking back a scream. He scrambled away from the bed, pacing tight circles around the room as he fought to get his breathing under control. His heart was pounding painfully in his chest, and though the room was comfortable, involuntary shivers wracked his frame. 

It never got easier. Even in their familiarity, the night terrors never lost their edge. Steve let his forehead rest against the wall for a few moments. He knew that what he saw was long over. The barely-eighteen-years-old soldier who’d died in Steve’s arms had been buried nearly a century ago. He hadn’t been inside the frozen, crashed wreck of the Valkyrie for over six years. Bucky was alive and well. It was done and overwith. But he still could hear the shelling sometimes, so loud it made his teeth hurt. He still woke up shivering and remembering exactly how it had felt to freeze, limb by limb, to that floor.

It had become familiar, but never easier. 

Nat was no more than a lump under the covers, but he couldn’t leave her after having just been away. Steve washed his face and got back in bed, eyes open so that all he’d have to see was the faint glow of the nightlight in the bathroom, illuminating the stacks of Nat’s things on the floor of his room. He couldn’t quite stop shivering, not until the first rays of sunlight came through the windows.

* * *

 

Bucky had decided he needed a break, so Steve had offered for him to tag along to the playground. Nat still didn’t love Bucky, but she tolerated him with minimum complaint. She was actually getting a lot better at socializing - she was still pretty quick to violence when she felt threatened, but Steve kept a close eye on her to make sure that didn’t happen. And Lottie seemed to intuit that Nat needed to be treated a little differently. Smart little kid.

“She’s such a freak,” Bucky chuckled, pointing out how easily Nat scaled a tiny rock wall. “Look how strong she is. If she stays little, you gotta make her do gymnastics, she’ll sweep the floor.” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “We don’t know if she’ll be around that long. And even if she is, you know nobody can _ make _ her do anything she doesn’t want to.”

Bucky hummed a quiet agreement, sipping his coffee for a few moments. “Yeah, guess not.” Nat came over for a sip of water and darted away. “I remember her pretty well. Sarah.” 

“You know how stupid that was, right? I ask you if you’re still trying to kill me,  if you remember who I am, and you said ‘I remember your mom’.” 

“Fuck off,” Bucky said, laughing and shoving Steve’s arm. “Like to see what moving speech you’d come up with after having your brain scrambled.” Steve laughed, and they watched Nat for another moment before Bucky continued. “It was a way to think of you that they couldn’t take because it wasn’t direct. I remember a lot of her, bits of us when we were little kids.” He nodded, perhaps to himself more than Steve. “I think she’d have been proud of how well you’re doing. With Nat.” 

Steve couldn’t  bring himself to respond out loud. He gave Bucky’s good shoulder a gentle squeeze, and stared at the mulch in front of the slides until he was sure his eyes weren’t red anymore. 

* * *

 

The next day, Nat woke up on the wrong side of the bed. At first, Steve just thought she was having a cranky day. She was prone to that sort of thing. Jenny, from the playground group, had once said that mood swings were pretty common for a ‘threenager’. But Nat usually napped for an hour. At two and a half, Steve started to worry. 

“Maybe she’s getting sick. She was around all those other kids yesterday, I mean, we got her shots, but -”

“But you can’t vaccinate her against every random bug, Steve,” Tony said. He was only half paying attention, squinting at something on a holoscreen like it had personally offended him. “She’s probably got a cold or something. Ask FRIDAY for a thermometer, or she can remotely check her temperature for you. I’ll order chicken soup for dinner.” 

Steve paced back in forth in front of his desk. “Or this is some long-dormant Red Room nightmare thing that only they had the antidote for.”

“Watches Indiana Jones once.” 

“ _ Tony _ .” 

Tony sighed. “Steve. She survived an assassin training program. And then years of being an assassin. She will be okay. If it gets dicey, we take her to the best pediatricians in the world so  _ they  _ can prescribe her some Tylenol.” 

“The hell’s a Tylenol?” 

“Ask Sam.” 

“He’s visiting his parents. Is that important? Does she need it now?” 

Steve was shooed brusquely out of the lab with a thirty minute crash course on modern medications for children by FRIDAY. 

When Nat finally woke up, she was clammy. She was only reading at ninety-nine, but she looked miserable. Steve let her drink apple juice straight-up instead of cutting it with water like he usually did just so she’d stay hydrated. Even when Nat was cranky, it was usually a much more active type of anger. Her quiet whining now was just saddening.

“You’re definitely coming down with something, carrot top. Does your head hurt?” 

“Owie,” she agreed. Her little voice was so quiet and tired. Steve desperately wished he could fistfight germs, but gave her some of the kiddie-strength fever reducer instead.

He kissed her forehead.  _ “My sweet little girl _ ,” he murmured in Irish. 

Nat hugged the stuffed spider plushie Clint had sent her, though she seemed to worn out to do much playing. 

She did perk up some after Steve and Tony tag-teamed her into eating some soup. She even asked for candy, which Steve didn’t allow, but took as a good sign. Still, he put her to bed early, which she didn’t resist for a minute. 

Steve finally got to thinking that maybe he had panicked too much when she was still fast asleep at one in the morning. He’d been such a sickly child that it was hard for him to imagine what it would be like to just casually get a cold and get over it. And the last time he’d been ill had been so long ago. Medicine was so different now, stronger, cheaper, more effective. He’d gone off the deep end at a case of the sniffles.

Clint had told him, in nicer words, to chill the hell out multiple times. As the one of the very few actual parents Steve could call, he’d been trying to take his word for it.

“Listen, if she gets above 103, take her to the hospital. If not, give her some medicine, keep her hydrated, cool her off if she’s really feeling bad, and take her to the doctor tomorrow.” 

“You’re sure?” 

Clint chuckled over the phone. “I remember the first time Coop got sick, I was just like this. I promise. Kids get colds all the time.”

He finally fell asleep at somewhere around two. But not for long.

Steve woke to the sound of Nat getting sick. He ran to her room and pulled her out of the bed, lifting her away from the mess. Her forehead was burning, and the moment she’d caught her breath, the sobbing started in earnest. 

“Shh, baby. It’s okay, I’m here now. You’re gonna be okay.” Nat was limp against him like a wet dishrag, even her crying muted with exhaustion. He brought her into the bathroom to wipe her face off. Her temperature was reading at 102 exactly. He took it twice. 

He paced around the tiny bathroom, rubbing Nat’s back in little circles. She was so hot. And _ weak _ . A solution presented itself almost immediately but…

Steve’s eyes stopped on the shower. He turned away. 

Nat fought him when he tried to give her another dose of medicine, but he eventually wheedled and tricked it in. Last time it had taken nearly forty minutes to actually bring her fever down any. She was still crying, breathless and exhausted and breaking Steve’s heart.

“I’m so sorry, baby. It’s gonna feel better soon.”

She shivered violently, shaking against him. Her fever was so high. Steve’s heart raced as he turned around again. It was always what his mother had done when he’d had a temperature. Cooled him down. Always helped him feel better. 

Steve swallowed hard. 

Nat’s skin was pale and she was shivering despite the fever making her burn against his skin where he held her. 

The idea of sitting under a stream of cold water made his head spin with panic. He hated the cold. Fucking hated it. Even when he was prepared and doing well, it always wore through his defenses. 

“Owie,” Nat whimpered. “Owie.” 

Steve turned the water on, leaving it at the coldest setting. Nat hiccuped another cry against his chest. Her usually tight grip was loose. He’d never hated himself more than he did in this moment. Too afraid to do the right thing for a kid who’d been through enough already. Because of a little cold water. He could feel the mist of the shower. The droplets were chilly against his arms.

“Dada,” Nat pleaded. 

He sucked in a breath. Steve stepped inside, braced against the sudden temperature drop. Nat’s pajamas stuck to her skin, Steve’s t-shirt quickly soaking through. Steve rocked her gently back and forth, but kept them both under the stream of cool water. 

Steve’s heart was pounding. “I’m here, carrot top. I’m here. I love you so much, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. S’gonna be better soon, I’m so sorry, Nat.” Steve closed his eyes tried desperately to think of something else, anything else. His breaths were starting to speed. 

“Daddy?”

He needed to stay calm. And handle this. And take care of this little girl who needed him. “Fuck,” he hissed. “ _ Fuck _ .”

He slid down the wall, sitting on the shower floor with Nat cradled against his chest. Steve pushed the strands of wet hair out of her face with fingers that were starting to tremble. “You’re gonna be okay, Nat. S’okay. I’m here, I’m not leaving you.” 

Steve was starting to shake, muscles contracting in violent shivers. A man his size shouldn’t feel anything more than slightly cool in this temperature. He knew it was all in his head. But it didn’t feel any less real. He could feel his hands freezing to the metal floor of that plane. He could feel what it had been like to die, his legs sticking to that floor, the burning pain of ice, the numbness, the way it had locked around his chest so he couldn’t breathe. How his last action, his very last action had been to straighten out his body, pull his shield over his chest so no one would know he’d died crying like a frightened child. 

His teeth were chattering. Nat’s hand pulled on the collar of his shirt, and he snuggled her closer. “I love you, Nat. It’s okay.” He had no idea how long they’d been here. Moments? Minutes? An hour?

Steve choked down a sob. “Fuck.” He didn’t manage to suppress the next sob. Or the one after that. “ _ Fuck.”  _ She still felt burning hot, she was just barely starting to relax. They couldn’t leave. But he couldn’t stay here, he couldn’t take this, he couldn’t relive this again he couldn’t do this he couldn’t  _ breathe - _

“Sir?” 

He was gasping to get air in, rocking slightly where he sat, holding a soaked, feverish child - who now was calling him dad, Jesus Christ, fucking god as if he could handle anything like that, as if he could possibly be the type of father he knew she deserved - but somehow, the AI’s chiming voice managed to get through to him. Maybe she’d asked multiple times before. He didn’t know. 

“You appear to be in distress, Captain. Should I contact emergency personnel?”

Steve swallowed, biting down hard on his lip to try and quiet himself. Nat burrowed against his chest. He clutched her a little closer. She still felt too warm. 

“Captain, I am going to contact emergency personnel unless you can direct me otherwise.” 

“No,” he said, voice ragged. “No.” Steve squeezed his eyes shut. “Get Tony.” He pulled Nat’s soaked hair out of her face again, turning her so she was curled up in his lap instead of half-sitting on his chest. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry.” 

He was shaking convulsively, sobs slipping out between desperate gasps of air. Nat cried against his chest and all he could do was hold her. 

When the bathroom door slammed open, Tony was out of breath: whatever FRIDAY had told him had obviously scared him. For a moment, he said nothing as he took in the sight before him, Steve and Nat both fully clothed and soaking wet in the shower, shaking with fever and cold, respectively.

“...Steve?” 

“F-fever. Gave her. Tylenol - but.” Steve shook his head. The streams of water hid any tears on his face, but not the redness of his eyes, the shortness of his breaths. “I - I can’t. The cold, I can’t- do it. I can’t. Please.” 

Tony approached slowly, as if approaching a spooked deer. He knelt by the edge of the shower for just a moment before holding his arms out for Nat. “You get out, dry off. I’ll hold her in there until the fever comes down.”

Steve didn’t move for a moment, numbed and hardly capable of comprehending anything he said.

“Steve.” Tony tugged on his arm. The force was laughable. He pulled again, harder. Tony quickly gave up, sitting back to tug off his shirt and pajama pants, crawling into the shower in boxers. “That is  _ brisk _ ,” Tony muttered. He sat in front of Steve, one hand going to his face. His hand was warm on Steve’s cheek, his touch tentative, hesitant. “Steve. Get out of here, I got her.” Tony slid his hands behind Steve’s, gently lifting Nat out of his arms. “You poor baby,” he murmured to her. He took Steve’s place, leaning against the wall with the girl in his arms, pushing Steve out of the way with his body. “Out. Go dry off and warm up.”

“Dada,  _ no _ ,” Nat whined, one arm reaching up for him. 

Guilt wracked his every movement, but his head was  _ spinning _ . Blackness curled at the corners of his vision. Steve pulled himself out of the shower and peeled himself out of his wet shirt and sweats, wrapping a towel around his body like a blanket. Steve leaned against the wall so he could see inside the shower where Tony was sitting. He reached one arm back into the cold water to hold Nat’s hand.

“I’m still here. M’sorry, babygirl. I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“FRIDAY, what’s her temp?” Tony asked, touching a few fingers to her forehead.

“101.8 degrees Fahrenheit.” 

“That’s - better,” Steve mumbled, nodding. “Down a little.” The sound of the shower drowned out the screaming in his head, just a little. He was still shaking violently. He wanted to go crawl into bed, but he couldn’t leave her. Again. 

“See those bars in the corner? The towel warmer you clearly didn’t know existed?” Tony asked. At Steve’s nod, he continued. “Hang your shirt and sweatpants on it. It’ll get them nice and warm.” 

Given a simple task, Steve moved to hang the soaked clothes. And grab another towel to hide under. He slipped his hand back into Nat’s.

“I guess I’m just surprised because…” Tony trailed off, then started over. “It didn’t make sense, given the position you were in when they found you in the ice.. But when I stalked through all of SHIELD’s data, I found an interview where you said you didn’t remember anything after the impact except waking up in 2012.” 

Steve’s body tensed, but Tony didn’t pry for answers. He seemed to be thinking, rather than expecting a response. 

“I don’t know, I just didn’t think you’d lie about that.” Tony smiled. “No judgement there, by the way, I wouldn’t have told them my first name, let alone sit with some suit to relive...what you went through that day. But I never thought you’d lied about it because you always seemed so _ fine _ . When other people were messed up about stuff it was always you telling them to be gentle on themselves. And we ran missions in Sokovia, Russia, Siberia.” He nodded to himself. “You always seemed okay. And I’m just thinking now, if you only seemed fine to me because I only ever expected you to be.” 

“You didn’t know me as well, then.” 

“I’m feeling like I hardly know you now.” 

Steve turned to look at him, searching for answers in his face, his eyes. Tony met his gaze evenly, looking… contemplative. Nothing more. The judgement Steve was sure he’d find was absent. 

“See,” Tony said, continuing as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “for me it’s space, not cold. Freaks me out. Can’t watch _ Cosmos _ without getting edgy. I can stand it, if I’m looking up at night, or if it’s in a movie briefly, or - something like that. It’s fine. It’s just - it’s always one of the places my head goes when I’m panicked.” 

Nat whimpered and Tony kissed her forehead softly. The sound of the shower on the tile floor was almost like rain. Steve closed his eyes. 

“Does it wake you?” Steve asked. His voice wasn’t as breathless, but still rougher than usual. “Thinking about it?” 

Tony barked a humorless laugh. “I think the nightmares were ultimately one of the final nails in the coffin for me and Pepper. Not that it was so constant that she couldn’t sleep or any of that. It was that she couldn’t...help. She tried so hard, but she never understood it. Not really. She tried, though. I never deserved her anyway.”

“I’ve woken Nat a couple times,” Steve confessed. “Shaking. Just...it’s all kinds of things that wake me, but no matter what I dream about, I always wake up shivering.” The vulnerablility of having actually put words to this deeply personal part of his life left him feeling cracked completely open.

“Trauma sucks.” 

“I didn’t know you...y’know. Too.” 

“Yeah,” Tony said flatly. “I’ve gotten pretty good at hiding it under a smile and a one-liner.”

Steve nodded once, but the way Tony brushed it off bothered him. Just because he’d hidden his pain well didn’t mean it didn’t matter. Steve hid his like a goddamned champion, but it still  _ hurt _ . “I still should have seen.” 

“Well. You didn’t know me as well back then.” After a few minutes, Tony turned to Steve with a cheeky smile. “We’re dropping the ‘d’ word, now, huh?” Tony smiled a little. “Figured it was a matter of time before she called you dad, but still. Not sure if I should get you a drink or say congratulations.” 

“Me either,” Steve admitted. He wasn’t sure he was ready to even think about this by himself, let alone discuss it with someone else, but Tony was like a dog with a bone - the more you pulled, the fiercer he held on. 

“It’s...it’s the right thing to do, doing everything we can to get our Tasha back. But I think it’ll be sad when we have to say goodbye to this one. Think you’ve really been a good dad to her.”  

Steve felt his throat tighten up again. He let his head rest on his knees to hide his face. The idea of saying goodbye to his little carrot top made him want to curl up in a ball and hide somewhere. Almost as much as the idea of her staying, of having to actually be a parent to her, to do things right by her. 

He must have been less subtle than he thought. 

“Steve?” 

Steve let out a slow, controlled exhale. He was not going to cry. And if it came to that, he was not going to cry in front of other people.

“Steve?”

“Can I have a second?” 

Tony withdrew his hand, which Steve realized had been hovering awkwardly around his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. You don’t have to talk about it with me. FRIDAY, temperature check.” Nat was down to 100.8. “The medicine’s probably kicking in,” he said, “let’s get her out of here.” 

_ No, _ Steve wanted to say.  _ No, it’s not because it’s you. It’s because I’m lost, and I curl up when I’m scared. It’s because I’ve never known how to talk about anything. It’s because I got hit for crying too many times to be able to do it in front of you _ . “I’ll take her,” he said. Tony helped Steve towel Nat off and change her into clean pajamas. 

“Am I allowed to tell people we showered together?” Tony teased as he started to dry off himself.

Steve turned to give him a look. The scar on Tony’s chest from where he’d had the arc removed instantly caught Steve’s eye. The edges worked away from the center, circular scar - he supposed, where they’d had to dig out the shrapnel itself - making the shape almost resemble a sun. He’d never seen it before. Nor had he seen the rest of Tony’s body without a shirt. 

Steve turned back around, flushing as he tried to get Nat’s wet hair into braids. “You go right ahead. Tell Sam. Maybe he’ll lay off the dating thing for a while.” 

“A disappointment to all the eligible singles in the area, I’m sure.” 

Nat was slumped against Steve’s chest, half-asleep already. “She’s so tired,” he murmured.

“I’m going to have someone clean her room tomorrow,” Tony offered, tugging his tee shirt back on over his head. “The point of having this much money is not cleaning up pukey sheets myself.”

“She sleeps better with me anyway,” Steve offered. His bedroom was oddly embarrassing to be in with Tony. The sheets were tangled, the covers hiked up high. It looked like physical evidence of a weak mental state. 

“You’ve been up all night with her,” Tony said. “Why don’t I take her?” 

Steve laid Nat on the bed, smoothing out the sheets and tucking them in neatly at the corners and the edge of the bed. “She doesn’t like waking up in new places.” 

“Steve,” Tony said firmly, “you can’t stay awake for days on end. We just got back from a trip, and I know you haven’t slept much since.” He sighed and laid right on top of the sheet Steve had just straightened out, on the edge of the bed. “Fine.” 

Steve wavered. On one hand, he was fucking exhausted, and didn’t want to leave Nat. On the other, the optics of this were...not good. If anyone found out, anyway. He watched Tony fuss with the pillow under Nat’s head. He would believe the best of him, this time, instead of the worst. Steve laid down on the other side of Nat and pulled the covers up high. 

“Tony?”

Tony didn’t look up from where he was tucking the blankets around the toddler. “Mm?”

“The...the thing is,” Steve said, muddling through the words. “I don’t know how to be a dad.” Tony didn’t say anything, and Steve kept going, pushing the words out like bullets from a wound. “I have no idea what doing it right looks like. My dad was an alcoholic shithead who beat the fuck out of me any chance he got, Bucky’s dad died in the war. Wasn’t like I had an abundance of chances to learn from example. I just - I love her and I want what’s best for her. I don’t know if that means me.” Silence stretched between them. “Tony?”

“Steve, listen. I don’t know shit about having a good dad either. I remember as a kid just wishing that he’d spend time with me, that he’d show me he loved me, that I was worth something to him.” Tony rolled onto his side to meet Steve’s gaze in the dark room. “You love her and you want what’s best for her? I don’t know what more a kid could ask for.”

Steve thought it was going to take him hours to find rest, but in truth, he was asleep before he could even thank Tony for staying.

 


	8. Breakfast

Steve woke up curled around Nat. The bed was warm, but even as barely-conscious as he was, he could tell the girl’s fever had gone down. He cracked his eyes open and nearly jumped. Tony was asleep beside him, Nat snuggled between the two of them. Steve had nearly forgotten. Tony looked like he hadn’t planned on staying the whole night - he was slumped at an awkward angle, body curved around Nat like he’d been cradling her. Steve couldn’t stop looking. 

Tony looked like a different man when he was asleep. The sass, the humor, the sarcasm, the fast-talking jargon, all of the things that he wrapped around himself like Iron Man armor, they were all stripped away. He had the longest eyelashes. Steve had never noticed them before. His hair fell in messy waves, just a little bit of gray around the temples. Stubble covered his cheeks. He wasn’t the invincible Iron Man the public thought of, or the genius the team considered him, or the adversary Steve sometimes made him out to be. He was...just a man. Big-hearted and flawed and funny and far more vulnerable than he ever let other people see.

Brown eyes opened slowly, and Steve smiled somewhat awkwardly. 

“You know,” Tony mumbled, “I’ve woken up in other people’s beds unintentionally before, but this,” he said, gesturing to Nat’s sleeping form, “this is a first.”

Steve huffed a quiet laugh, stretching out his legs a little. “I’d really hope so.” He was quiet for another few moments as Tony roused himself to a more conscious state. “Thanks. For...last night.” 

“You know, I’ve had that said to me before too, but usually the person saying it comes at  _ least  _ once.” 

“Tony. I mean it.” 

Tony’s smile softened a little. “I know. I’m really glad you called me,” he admitted. Steve understood the implied question: but  _ why _ did  _ you  _ call  _ me? _ Steve didn’t address it. He didn’t have an answer. Tony continued. “We should do that more. Not that, I don’t - obviously. I mean, talk. Honestly.” 

“I’m not great at that.” Realizing that rather sounded like a rejection, Steve hastened to correct. “I think you’re right though. And. I’ll - y’know. Do my best.” 

“How about...can I ask you a question? You can ask whatever you want in return, but you have to answer honestly.”

“Are we playing truth or dare?” Steve lifted an eyebrow. He couldn’t say he was against the idea. If they were just going to wait for Nat to get up, a distraction wouldn’t hurt. And...maybe he’d learn something. “Let’s go make coffee.”

He and Tony very carefully extricated themselves from the bed. He was certain he’d hear Nat if she cried out, and he didn’t like whispering a whole conversation. As Tony loaded up the coffee maker, Steve pulled himself up to sit on the countertop. “Okay, shoot. I pick truth.”

“Really?” Tony grinned. “You and Barnes. Did you guys ever…?”

Steve scowled. “Jesus Christ, Tony.” 

“Simple question, Steve, yes or no?” 

Steve sighed. “No. We did not. Bucky’s not like that.” 

Tony’s jaw dropped, and Steve realized his verbal mistake too late. “Meaning you are?” Tony asked. “Just guys? I thought you and Peggy had - or was that just -?”

He knew, logically, that it was okay. Legal for guys to marry other guys. Celebrities, even senators were openly queer, for the most part, nobody worth anything really had an issue with that. Logically, he knew that. But he also remembered once when he’d nearly been killed for just _ seeming _ like a fairy. He hadn’t even done anything - he’d just been walking home from work. But he was skinny and small and one of the men decided they didn’t like the way he walked. One of Bucky’s coworkers from the docks had happened to walk by, and Steve still thought that if he hadn’t stepped in, he wouldn’t be alive. He’d limped for a month afterwards. Steve could still hear the things they’d yelled, the things they’d called him.

Tony seemed to realize where Steve’s head was - it must have showed on his face. “I won’t say anything,” he promised. “I should’ve guessed that’d be tough for you to talk about. Back in the not-so-good old days-”

“Peggy and I were together,” Steve said, interrupting Tony’s apologetic rambling. He couldn’t bring himself to look anywhere except his own hands, thumb tracing a line back and forth across his palm. “I like both. I always have. It was just...safer to only go after girls then.” 

Steve could feel Tony’s eyes on his face. “And now? Natasha’s whole quest to get you a date has been just women, hasn’t it? Not that you actually ever indulged her, but she’s poached my contacts list more than once.” Tony turned to fully face him, setting down the coffee cups. 

“And now...s’hard to find anybody who I think could...handle my other issues,” Steve admitted with a wry smile, finally looking back up. “And that’s not even getting into the whole - sexuality thing.” He smiled a little, glancing back towards the room where the kid version of Nat was sleeping. “She figured it out. She kinda - I met Sam a little bit because I was trying to pick him up,” he laughed. “She asked ‘what type’ of dates I wanted to consider.” 

Tony’s smile was warmer than Steve had ever seen it, almost sweet. “So your type is - tall, dark, and handsome? Does it vary for men and women?” 

“I like brunettes with good butts. Bonus points if they look like they could kill me. Or might try,” he said dryly. 

Tony choked, turning to bury his face in his arm as he muffled his laughter. “There’s so much wrong with you,” he ended up rasping finally.

“You knew Peggy, I mean, she was pretty much perfect in terms of my type. Scary as hell and prettier than a bombshell girl. And her chest was - honestly -” 

“No! No, gross, she -  _ ew _ , she half raised me, I called her ‘Aunt Peggy’,” Tony protested, “I don’t need to hear about her boobs.” 

“Tony, be a grown up,” he said, in his most stern Captain-America-ish voice. “You can acknowledge facts. She had perfect boobs.”

“You’re a disgusting old man, has anybody ever told you that?” 

“My turn,” Steve said, cutting him off. He considered for a little while what he was going to ask. “Why were you such a prick to me when we first met?”

Tony’s eyebrows lifted, then his expression grew more serious. Steve almost regretting asking the question -- he’d expected a quippy answer. Though, he supposed, the whole point of the game was to avoid that type of shallow conversation. 

“My dad spent my whole life looking for you,” he said quietly. “Talking about you. Comparing me to you. I grew up with your posters hanging over my bed. I idolized you, I wanted to be you. But I also hated you for taking my dad away from me.” He was quiet for a long time. Steve didn’t know how to reply to that, but Tony eventually spoke again. “When I first met you, I was thinking of all of that. And...also realizing you weren’t perfect. You weren’t the person my dad talked about, or the guy from the comic books. You were just a guy.” Tony grinned. “No offense.” He pulled two mugs down from the cabinet and set them on the counter. “I guess it was just hard for me to realize that you were flawed and human, but still...so much better than me.”

“I’m not -”

“It’s okay, it doesn’t bother me now,” Tony said. “It was just hard for me to compare myself to you. Are you gonna make breakfast? I think the rules are that if you con a guy into your bed for the night, you have to make breakfast.”

“I didn’t con you,” Steve scoffed, though he did hop down from the counter and take out a pan to make eggs. 

“Ah-ah,” Tony corrected. “You had an AI ask me over, didn’t even do it yourself. And then no sex on top of that. That’s a con if ever there was one.” Tony’s grin was crooked, goofy almost. This side of him was so much lighter than Steve had gotten to see. Relaxed. Was it really just acknowledging that they had problems that brought the walls down between them? Was it just - making an effort? “My turn. Captain Steven G. Rogers. Are you a virgin?”

Steve glared. “Why are all your questions about my sex life?” 

Tony took a sip of his coffee and laughed. “Nat and I have money on this one, the next question will be entirely wholesome, I promise.” 

Steve swiped his cup of coffee from Tony. “No. I’m not.” The look of glee on the inventor’s face only made Steve’s glare harden. “Did you just lose money to a baby?”

“Nope, she owes me twenty bucks. When she’s...old enough to have the money I guess,” he chuckled. “She was dead convinced you’d saved yourself for marriage. She and Sam had a two hour argument on this once.”

Steve’s cheeks blushed furiously as he cracked eggs rather harder than necessary into the pan. “I don’t think it counts as saving yourself if nobody wants you,” he muttered. “But she forgot that I spent a year traveling around with a bunch of beautiful showgirls. There were only a few other men, and except poor Ed who played Hitler, they were stagehands and didn’t spend all that much time with the girls. And I looked like this,” he added, gesturing down at himself.

Tony was practically cackling with delight. “Please go on, Steve, this is the best part of my month. How much of the soprano section did you get through?”

Steve paused to consider. “If we count anything more than necking? I’d say...probably at least half. The alto section was much more proper, I didn’t do as well there.” 

“You would have loved going to college,” Tony promised, waggling a spoon at him. “Sorority houses would have eaten you up. Or out. Whatever.” 

“One of the altos taught me all about that,” Steve offered. “Carla. She said ‘a gentleman should always finish what he starts, and if he can’t do that, he should use a lot of tongue’.” Tony was actually struck silent, and Steve smirked widely. He wondered if she was still alive. He’d love to see her if she was, she always had him laughing. She was the first openly gay person Steve had ever met in his life, and though he’d never told her about his own sexual proclivities, he’d felt better just knowing he wasn’t alone. “Two questions - omelette sound good? Second. Tell me something about yourself I don’t know.” He left the question open-ended. What Tony chose to talk about would tell Steve almost as much as the story itself.

Tony hummed. He pulled fixings for omelettes out of the fridge and set them out on the counter. He stood beside Steve and started cutting up basil. Tony was quiet so long Steve wondered if he should maybe ask something different. “Did I ever tell you about Obe?” he asked. His tone was meant to sound light, but Steve could hear tension in it. “He was one of my dad’s best friends. Helped me run the company for a long time.” 

Steve didn’t interrupt. He took a handful of cheese and sprinkled it into the pan. 

“Yeah,” Tony continued. “He was like a dad to me. Way better to me than my own dad, most of the time,” he admitted. He laughed once, though the humor never reached his eyes. “He used to video call me from bed all the time, always wanted to know I’d gotten home safe, always took my calls no matter what the hour was. I bought him pajamas so I didn’t have to see him shirtless,” he said. Tony threw the basil and a little bacon into the pan and watched it sizzle. “After I got back from Afganistan, it was...god, it was so good to be home. I just wanted things to go back to how they were. They couldn’t but - y’know. You know what that’s like.” 

Steve nodded. He flipped the omelette in the pan. He’d never heard the name before in his life, and he’d spent enough time around Tony that he should have -- so Obe had to be dead. He already felt sad.

“But when I first got that suit going...I knew things couldn’t go back.” Tony’s hand went absently to his chest, where the arc once lived. “I’m sure they told you that SI stopped making weapons after that. I decided that when I got back, after I saw what they were doing with them over there. Obe was mad. Of course he was, right, I stopped making the single thing that SI made all its money off of making.” Tony’s expression twisted. “One day I found out that he was the one who’d been selling the missiles to anybody who could pay. He took my arc out of my chest. Left me on the floor to die.” 

Steve touched his arm. “I’m sorry.” 

“I didn’t think I’d ever be able to trust anyone again, after that. Thank god for Pepper and Rhodey, really, or I’d be living like a hermit in a bunker somewhere, avoiding all contact with humanity.” Tony smiled a little. “So, that’s a thing you didn’t know about me.” 

Steve flipped the omelette and slid it onto a plate. “Thanks for telling me that.” The phrase was something Sam often said, something he said was a good way to help people you didn’t know how to help. Mainly Bucky.  _ You don’t always have to know what to say _ , Sam told him.  _ Just let him know you’re glad to be there for him however you can _ . 

Tony waved a hand, his mouth full. He tapped his temple to signify that he was thinking - of his next question, Steve was sure.

Steve was still going over Tony’s story in his head. Why had he chosen that particular moment? To try and show Steve something vulnerable as a way to try and deepen the friendship? To explain why Steve’s betrayal of his trust hurt so much? Steve frowned to himself as he cracked eggs into the pan again for his own breakfast. If that was the case, it was a roundabout way of doing it. 

“Tell me about your Mom,” Tony said, interrupting Steve’s train of thought. Steve’s face must have showed his surprise, because Tony laughed. “I promised wholesome, didn’t I?”

Steve nodded as he leaned against the counter, folding his arms over his chest. “Hmm. Well. She married my dad when she was nineteen, and they left for America the day after the wedding. They had me a few years later.” He smiled to himself. “She was beautiful. I wish I had photos of her, but they tossed everything in my Army locker after I went down in the Arctic. She loved to sing - she was awful,” he laughed. “But she loved doing it, and I loved hearing her. She always sang me lullabies in Irish when I was sick, which - which was a lot of the time.”

His expression grew slightly more sad, and he poked at the eggs in the pan for something to do with his hands. “She never told me how bad things were. I knew - I saw when she wouldn’t eat so I could have more. I knew that she wanted money to take me to get proper medicine, but there was barely enough to keep the apartment warm. She never told me, though. She always found a way to smile and tell me that things were going to be just fine.” Tony offered up a few pieces of bacon, and Steve held out the pan for Tony to add them. “We went to church a lot, the two of us.”

“Not your Dad?”

“No. Ah. Sometimes.” Steve shook his head. He knew he’d accidentally blurted out a lot more about his father the previous night than he’d ever really planned on sharing. But Tony had seemed to understand then. He was quiet for a long while, and Tony didn’t interrupt. “Most of my memories of him are - from...when he’d come home drunk at night. He hated me. He used to hit me if my Ma hadn’t tucked me out of sight before he got home, and if she had, he’d beat up on her. She always stood in front of me.” Steve bit his lower lip. “Anything I know about courage, I learned from her.” He blinked a few times to dispel the blurriness in his eyes, hyper-focused on making his breakfast as away to avoid looking up. “Once I asked her why she didn’t just stay down. ‘You always stand up’, she told me. I tried to live like that. I still do.” 

“She sounds incredible.” 

Steve managed a small smile. “Yeah, she was.” 

“What was her name?” he asked.

Steve flipped the omelette. “I know that’s in my file, and you know it too.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, his expression shifting somewhere between urgency and irritation. “But isn’t the point of trying to have this conversation that we’re not gonna go off what’s in the files?” 

Steve slid his breakfast onto a plate and sat down at the table. He pulled out a chair beside himself for Tony. “Yeah. Yeah. You’re right.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Her name was Sarah.” 

“Maria,” Tony said, pausing as he studied the offered chair. “My mom’s name was Maria. She tried so hard to make things work between my dad and me. Didn’t work, but she gave it her best.” He sat slowly in the chair. “She taught me how to play piano.” 

“I didn’t know you played.” 

Tony smiled at him, but his hands cupped around his coffee mug. He looked like he was about to say something else, but the sudden sound of Nat crying out pierced the air. 

“I’ll get her,” Tony said, getting up. “Eat your breakfast. I’ll bring her right out so she can get her snuggles.” 

Steve hurried to finish his food as he heard Tony's footsteps coming back. Nat was reaching for him grumpily the minute she got in view of him, one hand clutching Tony’s shirt. “Dada,” she insisted. She looked tired and her hair was wild, but the energy was back in her eyes. 

“Come here, you,” he murmured, taking her from Tony’s arms.

“No temperature,” Tony reported. “She didn’t try to bite me either, so I think she appreciates my efforts from last night. Or we're over biting.” 

Steve laughed a little as he situated Nat onto his lap. “Are you gonna be sweet to Uncle Tony?” She leaned against him, feet up against the edge of the table. Steve pressed his palm to her forehead. “Guess Clint was right about it blowing over.”

“We should still take it easy today. Maybe watch some movies, read some books. Play inside,” Tony mused. 

Steve looked up at him with a small, hesitant smile. “Maybe you could play piano for us?” 

Tony’s expression grew soft as he slid Nat a bowl of Cheerios. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe I will.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are gonna get steamy in the very near future... in the meantime, let me know what you think about this chapter & the fic so far! Your support means so much to me :)


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